


Once In A Blood Moon

by GoldenDaydreams



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A surprising amount of feels, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Markus/Simon, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighty sex, Hunter! Hank, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, OT3, Obligatory Alley Blow Job, Pack Dynamics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Serious Injuries, Supernatural Elements, This Plot Is Paper Thin, Vampire! Connor, Vampire! Nines, Vampires, Vampires and werewolves and hunters oh my!, Werewolf! Gavin, Werewolves, alpha!Gavin, and lack thereof, injuries, oh look a bit of plot has shown up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-09-18 18:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20317609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: The lives of Connor and Hank have been colliding over the past five years- they currently have one common goal, to apprehend the werewolf who injured Hank's son, Cole. After Gavin saves Connor one night, mistaking him for Niles, he ends up assisting on the case. Niles mostly just wants them all to leave his damn house- and Victor Allen just wants to keep his secret status as Niles' blood-donor from being discovered by Hank.





	1. Bloody Lip

**Author's Note:**

> If I have missed any tags, please let me know. I still find writing sex scenes difficult, and guess what's even harder- tagging them, apparently. If you've got constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it (unless it's on the paper thin plot, because trust me, I'm aware XD)

The bell over the door jingled as Connor walked in. The scent of the bar could be boiled down to sweat and beer, unappealing in the circumstances. He zeroed in on his prey two seconds in, and moved around the tables to get up to the bar. He noted his companion holding a drink, from the look of him, easily the seventh or eighth. He sat down on the next stool over, his back to the bar, keeping an eye on the room.  
  
“You shouldn’t drink that.”  
  
That got him exactly the expression he’d been expecting; lip curling with disgust as he’s eyed with a murderous glare.   
  
“It’ll slow down your reflexes.” Connor made his point by quickly grabbing the Lieutenant’s drink, and downing it in one smooth motion. His body wanted to reject it, but it went down. It’s worth the discomfort, and potential pain later just for how furious, and red-faced Hank became.  
  
“I aught to take you out back and show you just how fast my reflexes still are,” Hank snarled, leaning in, _fearlessly_. It was beautiful.  
  
Connor smiled, leaning in just short of their noses touching. “Is that a promise?”  
  
Hank grabbed his own jacket from the next stool over, stumbled a little as he stood, and turned for the front door.  
  
“I have information for you.” Connor maintained his distant expression, he knew the hunter and cop had no choice but to listen.  
  
Hank paused, staring up at the ceiling before turning back around. “About?”  
  
Connor stood, smoothed down his vest, and nodded his head toward the back exit leading into the alley.  
  
Hank followed him out. “What the fuck is this about? And if you’re wasting my time-” Connor heard the safety on the gun click off. “I won’t hesitate.”  
  
Connor sighed, but turned around. It wasn’t the first time they’d ended up in this position, and was unlikely to be the last. “I have information about the werewolf that attacked your boy.”  
  
In another time Hank would have had Connor pinned up to the wall, and had that gun against his temple, but the drinks in the hunter gave Connor an incredibly unfair advantage.  
  
The gun laid on the ground. Hank pinned up to the wall both his wrists under Connor’s hands, Connor’s body pressed against Hank even as he struggled against the grip. “We both know you’re too drunk to take me. Blood-gifted hunters might be stronger than humans, but the alcohol-” The pain was quick, and sharp. His lip stung. He reeled back, and the surprise was enough for Hank to pull his wrists out of Connor’s hold, and shove the vampire back.  
  
Connor regained his balance, and stared at the blood on Hank’s snarling mouth. “You… bit me?” Connor’s thumb went to his own lip, brushing against the already healing wound, but smearing the blood. He couldn’t help but be captivated by the image of Hank with Connor’s own blood on his lips. “Oh, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “I don’t think that had the intended reaction.”  
  
“You’re part of the Council. You’re supposed to be policing your own. My son wouldn’t have been injured in the first place if it hadn’t been for your oversight. That werewolf had half a dozen priors, and the sonovabitch is still on the loose!”  
  
Hank wasn’t entirely wrong. However, in fairness, Connor had been hunting that werewolf, but the wolf wasn’t bound to the night like Connor.  
  
“You’re a police officer, you’re saying a suspect never escaped you, and committed another crime?” Connor risked stepping in closer, enthralled by the steady heart. Hank might be pissed, but he’d never actually been afraid of Connor, not even in the moments when he really should be. “My failure was not intentional.”  
  
Hank let out a world-weary sigh. “What’s the tip, Connor?”  
  
There was a crude joke to be made, but Connor dismissed it in favour of; “We will discuss it when you’re sober enough to do something with it-”  
  
“Listen yo-”  
  
Connor just put his hand on Hank’s collarbone, and slammed him back into the wall. “You can’t even fight me right now,” he snarled, leaning in, with the desperate desire to taste his own blood off Hank’s lips. “I’m not letting you go somewhere half-cocked, seven drinks in, to fight a fucking werewolf. I don’t even like fighting those assholes, and I heal a hell of a lot faster than you.”  
  
“What about if I can take you in a fight, here and now?” Hank’s low voice still burned with anger, and Connor just wished it wasn’t aimed at him.  
  
Connor smiled. “I’ll humour you.” He slid the hand on Hank’s collarbone up, over the man’s soft, vulnerable throat, feeling the steady pulse under his thumb. “If you can pin me down on the ground, sure,” he gave a half shrug. “I’ll tell you what I know.”  
  
The cool edge in Hank’s eyes looked ready for a fight, even if they were a little bloodshot but he averted his gaze after a moment. “Ain’t as young as I used to be,” he muttered, shoulders loosening. He shoved Connor’s hand off him, but stayed leaning against the brick wall.  
  
Perhaps age did bring wisdom. “I will go with you. Might as well note that the Council doesn’t particularly care if I bring him back alive.”  
  
“Good to know.”  
  
Connor tilted his head toward the end of the alley. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”  
  
Hank didn’t move, but his eyes did shift back to Connor. “How about you give me a distraction?”  
  
The vampire wasn’t surprised by much anymore, but after five years of aggressively flirting with the Lieutenant, this was the first time the man had given him such an invitation. One he wouldn’t let go to waste. He stepped back into Hank’s space, his own blood smeared over Hank’s lips, and he wanted a taste. “What kind of distrac-”  
  
Hank shut him up with his lips. The taste of Hank along mixing with his own blood, _divine_. He savoured with small licks, and wanted to bite into Hank’s plush lip, but Hank pulled back, breathing hard, like he’d sensed Connor’s thoughts. “No biting.”  
  
Connor couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips.  
  
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “No biting until I say.”  
  
It sent a thrill down Connor’s spine. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered, cupping Hank’s face to keep him still as he licked the remaining blood from Hank’s bottom lip.  
  
“Fucking vamps,” Hank cursed. “Really gets you going, doesn’t it?”  
  
“You have no idea.” Connor’s hands shifted down Hank’s neck, feeling his pulse beat, beat, beat once again before slipping to the buttons on his shirt, popping one, two, three, kissing at the new skin exposed.  
  
Hank turned his head toward the alley, the people walking by. They didn’t take any notice of them. “It’s too dark,” Connor said, “even if someone stopped to look, they wouldn’t see us. No one will be any the wiser as long as you,” he lowered to his knees, “stay,” he unzipped Hank’s jeans, “quiet.”  
  
“Fucking hell.” Hank groaned as Connor licked over the fabric of his boxers, pinching the band in his teeth while keeping eye contact as he pulled them lower, fingers pulling at the jeans in tandem.  
  
His incisors ached with the desire to bite, to drink, to taste the man before him. He wouldn’t do it without permission however, he could be patient, after all, he had waited five years to get this far.  
  
Mindful of his sharper teeth, he took the length into his mouth, moaning at the weight on his tongue.  
  
Still, Hank hissed. “Watch your teeth.”  
  
Connor pulled back. “It’s not my fault you’re so big.” He grinned. “For the record, that is not a complaint.”  
  
Hank’s lip twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Well it is your fault you have razor fucking teeth.” One hand buried in Connor’s hair, tugging his head back. The thumb on his other hand pulled up Connor’s lip, right over one of his pointed teeth. “No right to be as sexy as it is though.” Hank’s thumb pressed against the incisor just hard enough to break skin, before pinning Connor’s tongue down with it. “That what you wanted?”  
  
Connor whined as the few drops of blood gathered on his tongue, he sucked gently.  
  
“You want more, Connor?” Hank asked.  
  
He nodded, not releasing Hank’s thumb.  
  
Hank took himself in hand. “Then earn it.”  
  
Connor’s saliva had already sealed up the wound, otherwise he might not have been so agreeable. Mindful of his teeth, and the fact that Hank might not be so forgiving of nearly cutting him next time, Connor used his lips and tongue instead. He licked from tip to base, and left filthy open mouthed kisses on the return trip.   
  
“That’s good,” Hank groaned, his hips thrusting slightly before he seemed to remember the danger inside of Connor’s mouth, but he practically vibrated with his attempt to stay still. The hand in his hair didn’t pull, but gently threaded through his hair with a softness Connor had never been treated to. “So fucking good.”  
  
The praise made his cock ache, but he couldn’t drag his hands away from Hank to bring himself any kind of relief even as his hips rocked slightly gaining barely there friction of his tight dress pants.  
  
His spit slick hand stroked while he hungrily licked over the head of Hank’s cock. While he doubted Hank would appreciate it, he ran his tongue along his teeth, slicing it open. He hissed at the sudden pain but slowly dragged his tongue along a particularly enticing vein leaving the mark of his blood behind.  
  
“Fuck!” Hank’s eyes widened. “What the hell, Connor!”  
  
Connor squirmed a little, he didn’t like the bark in the Lieutenant’s voice directed at him. “Wanna mark you,” Connor admitted softly. His incisors ached bad enough he could feel it up in his cheekbones. Marking Hank wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted to feed off the man, those couple of drops gave him a taste, and fueled his desire. “But you said no biting.”  
  
Hank tugged his hair just a little. “Clean up your mess.”  
  
He kept his eyes on Hank, watching the man’s eyes roll back as he licked at Hank’s flesh, cleaning it of his own blood. Connor lost himself to the desire to please Hank. The taste of the man’s blood haunted him, and he was driven to desperation by the potential of being good enough to deserve more. The combination of his hands, lips, and tongue wrung low groans, and soft praise from Hank.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hank took himself in hand, stroking himself quickly. “Connor, open your mouth.”  
  
Connor was quick to obey, and was just as quickly rewarded, moaning as his mouth was flooded. He struggled to pay attention to the details, the way Hank’s lips parted just so, the deep groan, the way his body became loose and relaxed after orgasm, the way his face softened in a way Connor hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before.  
  
He swallowed, he’d already had the whiskey, his body was going to be cramping as it sorted itself out regardless.  
  
Hank tucked himself back in his boxers before he shifted down ungracefully to his knees. “Connor,” was all he said, a little dazed, or maybe that was Connor himself. Hank’s hand cradled the back of his neck. “So good.” Hank pressed into his space, lips capturing his own, soft and unhurried. Connor went willingly, body cradled as if something delicate.  
  
“Hank,” he stared up at the man.  
  
Hank had straddled his hips, and a big hand pressing hard against his chest. “Pinned ya.”  
  
Connor blinked as the words sunk in. He snarled, the deep noise rattling around in his chest, lips curling, fangs exposed, his anger beyond words.   
  
“Come on, you’re not really angry.” Hank shifted his hips back and the noise shifted from menacing to meek as Connor shuddered with the spike of bliss. “A deals a deal, Con. You said you’d tell me if I could pin you.”  
  
“Never said when,” Connor snapped. His hand shot up to slam against the inside of Hank’s elbow before rolling them, cradling Hank’s head because as furious as he was, he still didn’t want to hurt him. _Much_. He leaned in close, and licked the shell of Hank’s ear. “I’ll tell you at dusk tomorrow,” Connor said, grinding against the man’s thigh. “_If you’re good_.”


	2. Stars Align

Connor had no intention of telling Hank about another lead until he actually knew it would lead somewhere. The last one had been promising, and Hank was furious that it had led them into another dead end. They’d argued, which wasn’t surprising. Shouting matches were a staple in this _thing_ they had. So when Connor got another lead, he went alone.  
  
Which, hindsight and all that.  
  
The three werewolves in front of him was indeed a problem, but at least the tip had been legitimate, as one of those werewolves was Daniel Greer. The werewolf had numerous priors, but most importantly, he was the one that had slashed Cole Anderson. That action had ensured Hank’s ex-wife took their son somewhere far away, somewhere she perceived as safer.  
  
“Seems you found yourself a pack, Daniel,” Connor said smoothly, trying to figure out which of the other two, if either was the alpha of the pack. An advantage to hunting Daniel was that he’d been a lone wolf, Connor had received no evidence that that had changed. Now he wasn’t just trying to bring in Daniel, he’d have to go through his pack to do it. Hank would not be pleased.  
  
Daniel snarled. “Desperate times.”  
  
Sensing a change, Connor glanced over his shoulder at another two werewolves who’d boxed him into the alleyway. Oh, lovely. Werewolves were nothing if not loyal, if Daniel was pack, _he was pack._ There was no point in trying to convince the werewolves that Daniel was a violent menace. Best case, he got out of this situation with only a few gaping wounds and would spent a few days healing. Worst case… he didn’t want to think about worst case.  
  
In the middle of plotting his escape he heard the women behind him give a pained shout, he turned in time to see her thrown against the wall. The male was fighting a newcomer who was both fast, and skilled, already in a half-shift, teeth elongated, fingers bent strangely, thick jagged claws out. The man was face down on the ground, the arm in the newcomer’s hands, foot on the shoulder popping it out of joint. The new werewolf glared over at them, and Connor felt a chill down his spine- definitely an alpha. One twist of that arm and the man on the ground let out a howl and was surely suffering a spiral fracture.  
  
The newcomer stalked toward them, slow and steady. Connor moved, trying to keep all four werewolves in view. The lighting wasn’t good, but now that he was close enough, Connor could see the scar across the werewolf’s nose, especially because he stopped beside Connor and stared, confusion in the way his nose scrunched up, and his extra furry brow drew down. “You’re not-”  
  
Daniel snarled, his jaw cracking loud enough for Connor’s sensitive ears to pick up on as he half-shifted. The other two wolves shifted with him, and the woman behind them held onto the wall as she stood unsteadily, but clearly healing fast.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t just want to come with me peacefully?” Connor tried, with no desire to fight a portion of a werewolf pack.  
  
Daniel smiled around his fangs.  
  
“Ah, fuck,” Connor muttered under his breath, and braced himself.  
  
The fight was short-lived, but bloody and brutal. Bones were broken, skin torn, blood stained the ground and the walls. Two of the werewolves were unconscious on the ground, one was dead, two had run off- Daniel (that evasive asshole) included. It would have been worse for Connor- even with the advantages of strength, speed and healing the vampire had, he’d still been horrifically outnumbered- had it not been for the other werewolf, the one that had come last minute, the one who’d taken more than a few hits meant for Connor.  
  
The one with the scar on his face was on one knee, his right side was torn to hell and back, and Connor could barely see skin past all the blood.  
  
“Can you get up?” Connor asked him.  
  
The man swayed, tried to raise his head, but the motion seemed just enough to make him pass out. He fell to the side but Connor was quick to catch him before he could hit his head.  
  
Connor had his own injuries to think about, and the blood was appetizing, but werewolf blood tended to do more harm than good. Besides, he wouldn’t still be alive if it weren’t for this one. Against his better judgment, especially considering the little time he had before daybreak, he dragged the unconscious werewolf into his car. That blood would be a bitch to get out of the upholstery. Connor held his hand to the gaping wound in his chest, his fingers could settle into the grooves the claws had made in his ribcage. Healing bone would take time, and he grimaced at the deep ache that came with healing. He glanced into the back seat, the wolf panted in his unconscious state, he’d probably survive- werewolves were annoyingly difficult to kill.  
  
“Try not to bleed to death back there,” Connor said as he stepped on the gas. “That would be terribly inconvenient.”  
  
——  
  
Plain-bloods knew about them, the vampires, werewolves, and witches of the world. Some of them were violently against, some were in support, a few were indifferent, and there were many who enjoyed dipping their toes into the world.  
  
Blood-bags fell into the last category. Humans who longed to take a walk on the wild side, ones that wanted that pleasure that came with being fed off of. Most went through government channels, it was safest, and supervised. Others went private- for their own privacy, or because they wanted something more than to be in a sterile room being watched.  
  
Niles had a few blood-bags he could call up when he wanted something fresh. All of them were his privately, they all had their reasons. Victor Allen was his favourite, and he made no effort to hide it. “Wine?” He offered leading the man into the kitchen.  
  
“Please.”  
  
“Long day?”  
  
“Long week, but I’m off this one,” Victor leaned his elbows on the island, and there was a lovely curve to his spine.  
  
“Plans for your seven days of freedom?”  
  
“Well, I get to start the week with you.” Victor’s eyes wandered, a pleased grin on his face. “Tomorrow I expect to be barely conscious, and spoiled.”  
  
“Gladly, darling,” Niles replied, pouring the expensive wine into the glass. He paid most of his blood-bags, some liked expensive jewelery for their time, but Victor made good money, he mostly wanted a bit of stress relief, and an uncomplicated relationship, he wanted to come and go as he pleased. Niles gave him sexual satisfaction, care, and the finer things in life, but Victor always curled his lip and gave him the cold shoulder for a while when he offered money or jewels, so he’d stopped.  
  
A compliment was on the tip of his tongue, when the door slammed open, an action that was so unlike his calm, careful brother that Niles was instantly at alert, and putting himself between Victor and the entrance way. “Stay here.”  
  
“Niles!” Connor shouted, his voice echoing in the grand entrance. “I’ve got a problem.”  
  
Niles stormed through the house, and he could feel Victor following- foolish to have expected the SWAT captain to stay put. “What is it?” he asked before he turned the corner and saw.  
  
Connor was injured, a mangled body being dragged beside him, blood dripping onto the floor. The werewolf was so badly beaten that if he hadn’t been so intimately acquainted with the scent of his blood he wouldn’t have known. “Gavin!” He rushed over, took the weight off his injured brother, tipped Gavin’s face back hoping to be reassured, but Gavin was unconscious, the head wound still sluggishly bleeding, and Niles’ incisors ached. His hunger had already been high, it’s why he’d called Victor in the first place. He had to remind himself that Gavin was injured, and not a buffet.  
  
“We’ve got to stop that bleeding,” Victor said, calm, in control- the man he was when everything went to shit. Niles hadn’t seen this side of him since they met years ago.  
  
“What the hell happened?” Niles asked Connor as he lifted Gavin into his arms, the werewolf groaned, and squirmed in the hold, even bared his teeth as his right eye opened a little. “It’s me,” Niles said softly. “You’re safe, I’ll take care of you.”  
  
There was a little growl deep in Gavin’s chest. “Thought it was you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I think he means me,” Connor said. “Got attacked by at least part of a pack, your friend here helped me out- speaking of, since when are you friends with a werewolf?”  
  
“Contrary to your belief,” Niles paused outside his bedroom, and Victor opened the door for him. “I don’t tell you everything.” He glared over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of this. Go call one of your blood-bags-”  
  
“Don’t call them that-”  
  
He gently laid Gavin down on his pristine white sheets. “Drink and heal up.”  
  
“I could take a bite off yours.”  
  
Niles hissed at his brother. “I’ll rip your fucking fangs out.”  
  
“That’s fine,” Connor held his hand over his heart. “I’m only dying a little.”  
  
Niles assessed his brother for a moment, the wounds across his chest were not pleasant, but he wasn’t in any danger. “You’re not dying, you’re just hungry, now out of my room.”  
  
“Dying,” Connor continued, dramatically.  
  
Niles whipped a pillow at his head, but Connor was too quick to close the door behind himself.  
  
“I would have let him,” Victor admitted softly. “For you. He’s your brother.”  
  
Niles frowned. “I appreciate it, but that isn’t our agreement. And he isn’t dying. He’s a dramatic bitch when he’s injured though.”  
  
Victor’s attention shifted. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”  
  
“Thank you,” Niles replied, watching a moment as Victor walked into the adjoining bathroom.  
  
Gavin was staring a little blankly, and Niles gently touched his side. “How bad is it?”  
  
“I’ll live,” Gavin replied.  
  
“Good fight?”  
  
Gavin smirked. “Hell yeah.”  
  
“Thought it was me, huh?”  
  
“Looked like you from behind, smells kinda like you too. Wasn’t until I was close that I saw the difference, but he still, ya know, looks like you, knew he had to be that big brother you talk about sometimes.”  
  
“So you kept him safe.”  
  
That strange split between a growl and a purr that Gavin could make when pleased was Niles favourite sound and it was a balm on his soul after everything that had happened. “Always keep you safe.” For a werewolf, that would make sense. Pack was everything. Niles had suspected for a while that Gavin messed up pack instincts had claimed him.  
  
Victor returned with the first aid kit, as well as a wet wash cloth. He passed the first aid kit to Niles, and gently started to wash the blood off of Gavin’s face, and the werewolf winced. “Sorry,” Victor whispered, dabbing at the cut. “It’s pretty deep, might scar.” It was close enough to the hairline that most wouldn’t even notice if it did.  
  
Niles grabbed the alcohol, but Gavin’s hand wrapped around his wrist, claws carefully avoiding the skin. “No.”  
  
“No? These wounds are deep, and they need to be cleaned.”  
  
“Lick it.” Niles froze. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words out of Gavin’s mouth, but certainly the first time he’d heard them in this context. “Come on, I know your tongue does that healing thing-”  
  
“It has a coagulant-”  
  
“I can heal if it just stops fucking bleeding,” Gavin explained. “Please, I’m so tired.”  
  
The ‘please’ set Niles on edge. Gavin ordered, and they butted heads plenty about it, trying to get Gavin to ask nicely for something was next to impossible, and here he just offered it.  
  
Niles let out a low curse, but grabbed the tattered ends of Gavin’s shirt to rip it open, and get it out of his way. The scent of Gavin’s blood was mouthwatering, and Niles’s incisors gave that painful ache, but he couldn’t bite, couldn’t drink. He lapped at the wounds, trying to be gentle even as the taste bloomed over his tongue. Gavin shifted, but the groan he let out wasn’t pained.  
  
“Is that good?” Victor asked softly. Victor and Gavin knew each other from work, and as far as Niles knew, they were acquaintances, nothing more.  
  
“Didn’t peg you for a blood-bag,” Gavin muttered, avoiding the question. He grabbed Victor’s wrist, not stopping him from doing his job, but seeming to need it to ground himself.  
  
“Didn’t peg you for one either.”  
  
“’M not,” Gavin argued. In fairness, while Niles loved the taste of Gavin, it couldn’t sustain him, and indulging in too much too often made him feel ill. Werewolves were never meant to be fed off of. He’d never defined Gavin, but sought him out on nights where he ached to feel the strength and control Gavin had in spades, or on nights when he wanted some sense of domesticity, or- he nearly snarled at the realization he’d make just about any excuse to go spend the night with the werewolf.  
  
“Do you need anything?” Victor asked. “Food?”  
  
“Water,” Gavin replied.   
  
“Okay,” Victor rose, and took the bloody face cloth with him.  
  
Niles took care, licking at the wounds, groaned as Gavin’s sharp nails carefully skated along his skull. “Thank you for taking care of me,” Gavin whispered.  
  
He ached to mark Gavin, bite into him so deep that he’d never thank him for something that should be expected. He struggled for a moment, the bone deep hunger made his hands shake, but he wouldn’t take advantage of Gavin’s vulnerability. He leaned back, the claws had dug deep into Gavin’s body, ripped his flesh apart, but the bleeding had slowed considerably, stopped in some places. It would have to do, his self-control hung by a thread.  
  
Gavin’s face still had a pinkish tinge, the blood still not entirely cleaned off. “How do you feel about a shower?”  
  
“Tomorrow? Sure,” Gavin muttered. “If you try to get me vertical right now- I’ll probably just keel over and die. Or at least start bleeding again.” He smirked. “You must think this is a good look on me.”  
  
“I prefer when you don’t look like you have one foot in the grave,” Niles replied, shoulders tense.  
  
Gavin adjusted his jaw, and Niles heard it crack as it shifted along with the softening of some of his facial features, the claws had receded as well, and Gavin cursed. “I ain’t dyin’.”  
  
Victor returned with water, and a plated sandwich, along with slices of gourmet cheese that Niles had actually purchased for Victor. “Do you think we can sit you up enough that you won’t choke to death?”  
  
“Fuck that would be a stupid way to go,” Gavin shifted, grimacing as Niles moved to stack pillows behind his shoulder and head. The movement let Niles see just how much blood had soaked into his sheets- they wouldn’t be salvageable. At least he had a set of plastic sheets underneath the expensive ones to save his mattress if a feeding got messy.  
  
Niles glanced at Victor. “Did Connor have one of his blood-bags?”  
  
“Didn’t see him,” Victor replied, holding the glass steady for Gavin, trying to make him use the straw, even though Gavin kept trying to just grab the glass on his own.  
  
Niles stood and walked to the window, there were precious few minutes until dawn. The sun wouldn’t hurt him- the myth stemmed from the fact that vampires avoided daylight because it essentially blinded them. He stared out into the driveway. Connor’s car was gone. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath before pulling down the heavy metal shutters and plunging the room into utter darkness.  
  
Victor flicked on the lamp. “Stop being stubborn,” he jammed the straw at Gavin’s lips. “Suck.”  
  
Gavin finally complied, like fighting took too much out of him, but he glared at Victor the entire time he drank.  
  
“Do you think you could eat something?” Victor asked.  
  
Gavin eyed the food. “I could try a bit.”  
  
Niles understood that Gavin would need the calories for healing, but also probably didn’t feel much like eating at the moment. Unlike himself, he carefully ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to soothe the ache.  
  
“Oh fuck off,” Gavin said when Niles tried to feed him a piece of cheese. He just grabbed the whole plate from the nightstand. “Said I wasn’t dyin’ for fuck sake. But you look like you’re starving.” He took a small bite of the sandwich, cut in fours, like he wanted them to see just how fine he was. Gavin’s eyes widened a little. “Holy shit, what is in this?”  
  
“Ham, brie, and apple slices,” Victor replied.  
  
Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “You put apple on a sandwich?”  
  
“You never evolved past peanut butter and jelly, did you?”  
  
Niles enjoyed the easy banter they had, there was a sense of underlying trust- and Niles wondered if they knew each other a little better than he’d assumed. He reached for Victor, the deep ache of hunger was starting to affect him, the scent of blood on Gavin- both his own, and others- had kept him on the knife’s edge of control.  
  
Victor’s eyes shot to Gavin, then back.  
  
“Another room?” Niles asked, part of the reason that Victor agreed to this arrangement was his privacy.  
  
Gavin whimpered a little, of course the injured alpha didn’t want to be left alone, but he didn’t verbally argue.  
  
Victor looked to be weighing his options, and became a little looser once he came to a conclusion. He glanced at Gavin. “You don’t speak a word of this.”  
  
“I won’t,” Gavin replied. “Promise.”  
  
Niles wanted to bite the moment Victor gave that little nod, but they had a long list of rules, rules that kept them both safe and happy. One of Victor’s was that there were no bites that could be seen by his colleagues. Wrists and neck were absolutely off the table, and as much as Niles would love to litter the man’s chest in bites, he’d be patient. After all, good things come to those who wait.  
  
Victor pulled off the powder blue sweater he’d been wearing, tossed it onto a decorative chair in the corner. Niles wasn’t surprised that Gavin had stopped eating to stare. If Victor noticed, he didn’t say anything, his eyes resolutely on Niles as if he wanted to ignore the fact that they weren’t alone. Gavin let out a pleased sound, however Niles couldn’t tell if that was because Victor had quickly undone his belt had the button and zipper down with the kind of speed that spoke of his own impatience, or if it was because of the food. Gavin chewed his snack, while eying another.  
  
Pants hit the floor, and Niles lost patience with the strip-tease. He stood and grabbed Victor at the hips and in one smooth motion had him laying along the foot of the bed, careful not to jostle Gavin too much. Victor blinked like he hadn’t expected the move, but the smile slowly crept across his face.  
  
A part of Niles wanted to remove those boxer briefs, but the moment he saw the healing bite from last time on Victor’s thigh what little control he maintained snapped. He leaned down, bit into it once again, overlapping the bite, teeth piercing through the muscled flesh, and the reaction was instantaneous. Victor cried out, his back arched, his leg tensed for a moment before relaxing. Blood pooled in Niles’s mouth, the hunger finally easing back along with the headache he hadn’t even noticed until it lessened. His torso laid over the bed, feet still on the ground, an arm wrapped around Victor’s legs keeping his hips pinned down, while the other held his thigh, massaging to keep him calm and pliant.  
  
Victor moaned, his fingers threading through Niles’s hair. “Other side, again, again,” he muttered a little strung out on the pleasure the bite gave him.  
  
With the hunger easing up, it didn’t pain him to comply. He gently removed his fangs, licked over the wounds to help them heal even though Victor was quietly begging for more, whispered pleas that had Niles aching in a different way. He pulled back to inspect his work, the bite was not longer bleeding, soft pink flesh already healing nicely. Victor’s eyes were a little spacey but the man was still present enough, he had, at some point, grabbed Gavin’s ankle, fingers up under the man’s jeans. Niles glanced at Gavin, who seemed every bit as dazed as Victor did without the bite.  
  
Gavin finally looked at him. “Well, you heard him,” he growled. “Bite him again. Make him feel good.” That rumbling growl/purr Niles loved so much made another appearance, rattling deep in Gavin’s chest. “Fuck, just look how hard he already is.”  
  
Victor’s hips rolled, slow and desperate, accompanied with a whine.  
  
Niles settled back between Victor’s thighs, shoving up the fabric of his boxer briefs a little more before carefully dragging his teeth over the soft flesh. “Oh,” Victor let out a shuddering breath, shaking like he wanted nothing more than to fall apart completely. Niles licked, and kissed the area. “Please, _please_.”  
  
He settled his fangs against the flesh, his eyes met Gavin’s as he bit in. Victor’s cry was music to his ears. Niles had to use a good deal of strength to keep the man pinned so his fangs wouldn’t leave jagged wounds as Victor attempted to thrust with the pleasure. Niles tried to make sure his bites were clean, and left the least amount of scars on Victor as possible.  
  
Gavin was still pale from blood loss, or maybe it was because what little blood he had left had gone rushing south. “That’s so fucking hot,” he barely whispered.  
  
Between Victor’s rich blood, Gavin’s dazed stare, Niles had a few new ideas, and knew this memory would haunt him for years to come.  
  
“Again, please Niles, again,” Victor panted.  
  
Niles pulled his teeth from Victor’s flesh as quick and careful as he could and drove them back in just slightly closer to the man’s groin. Victor tensed, shouted, came inside his boxer briefs, and the man’s pleasure sang through his blood. Niles’s eyes rolled back as the taste coated his tongue. It was one of the reasons Victor was his favourite blood-bag, the way he received pleasure, the way he could get off on bites alone- intoxicating.  
  
He drank his fill, keeping a close eye on Victor’s vitals, on the soft pants, and the way his eyes had gone soft, blinking slow and sleepy. Gently, he pulled his fangs from Victor’s thigh, and licked at the wounds he’d left behind. By the time he finished ensuring the wounds were closing properly, Victor had fallen asleep, a hand still loosely in Niles’s hair, and the other around Gavin’s ankle, connecting the three of them.  
  
Niles carefully adjusted Victor’s limbs, trying his best not to wake him. He made a discontent sound as Niles removed his hand from Gavin’s ankle, but his eyes remained closed. “Pull the blankets down,” Niles requested as he carefully picked Victor up from the end of the bed and walked around to the side not occupied.  
  
Gavin kept the blankets out of the way as Niles laid Victor down, the man shifting a little once he was down, but stilled once comfortable with his hands up by his head, fingers gently holding the pillow, his one leg hitched up toward Gavin, the bite marks on his thigh a sweet invitation every bit as much as the delicious wet patch staining his boxers.  
  
Gavin however pulled the blanket’s back up with one hand, grimacing, holding his injured side. “Sit back,” Niles ordered him, and Gavin’s lips curled as he growled. He was trying to care for Victor, Niles wasn’t blind, but- “You’re injured Gavin, let me care for you both.” He leaned over Allen, gently touching Gavin’s cheek. “We’re all safe in here, my precious Alpha. Will you let me care for you both?”  
  
Giving Gavin an option helped to appease the alpha’s need for control. Gavin gave a small nod. Perfect.  
  
He checked Victor over once more, the man deeply asleep, but turned into the touch as Niles pushed some of his hair from his forehead. Assured that Victor was fine, just exhausted, he rounded the bed to Gavin’s side. “You need to get some sleep too, it’ll help you heal.” He moved the plate from Gavin’s side, he had managed to eat half the sandwich and a couple of pieces of the cheese, which was honestly more than Niles had expected.  
  
Gavin’s hand went to Niles’s hip, dragged down lower, thumb following the bulging line of his zipper. “I could help you with that.”  
  
“Tomorrow,” Niles said, as much as he’d love to take his pleasure, the scent of Gavin’s blood still hung heavy tinged with pain, not to mention it was combined with the scent of werewolves he didn’t know, and didn’t care for. “Once we get you showered. Maybe Victor will join us.”  
  
Gavin palmed his own erection through is jeans. “Yes.”  
  
Niles pushed his hands away. “You’ll be more comfortable out of these.”  
  
Gavin grimaced as he lifted his hips high enough for Niles to pull them down. The one side was saturated in blood, until he could dispose of them, he threw them into the bathtub. On his return trip he saw Gavin trying to wiggle lower on the pillows he’d been propped up on. He’d never imagined Victor and Gavin in bed together, but now that they were laying side by side? How delicious.  
  
“You should suck me off,” Gavin said conversationally.  
  
“No.”  
  
A displeased, but non-threatening growl.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Niles promised. “For now, you need to heal, so get some sleep.”  
  
“Fine.” It spoke of how injured he was that he agreed so quickly. “But you stay with us.”  
  
Niles crawled into the large bed, settling himself between Gavin and Victor. Victor rolled in his sleep, his arm over Niles’s chest, his head nuzzling against the soft fabric of his sweater.  
  
Gavin smiled as he watched them, his eyes growing heavy as he nodded off.  
  
The house was silent with the exception of Victor’s soft breathing, and Gavin’s chest rumbling like an angry purr. He would have to ask Connor just why he’d been attacked, but that would have to wait until sometime much later. He had a few too many ideas as to how to to take care of Gavin and Victor to put to the test first. 


	3. Flesh and Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I had this chapter finished and just forgot to fucking post it. GDI.

Connor pulled up to Hank’s house a few minutes before dawn. The Lieutenant wouldn’t appreciate it, but Connor ached. His teeth ached. His side ached. His head ached. His car smelled like a werewolf, and it was setting his already frayed nerves on edge. He left the car, slamming the door shut, but the smell of werewolf was on him, soaked into his clothes where he’d physically dragged Gavin into the car, and from there into the house. At some point he was going to have to sit down with his brother and find out what was going on there. Especially since Gavin might prove useful to Connor’s own hunt of Daniel.  
  
He knocked at the front door. After a minute, he rang the door bell once. Then twice. Then held it down for a full minute. The door finally opened, Hank red-faced with anger, hair in disarray, the shirt he’d been sleeping in had a slight v-neck and gave just a peek of a tattoo along with the hair on his chest, and how Connor longed to burrow into that chest, feel the heat of the hunter he most certainly should not be trying to get with.  
  
“What the fuck are you-” Hank stopped mid-sentence, looking down at Connor’s attire wide eyed. “Holy fuck.”  
  
“You should see the other guys.” His peripheral vision went as the sun broke over the horizon. He blinked as his world started to shrink. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Like you actually need an invitation,” Hank muttered. As a hunter, he knew that the ‘vampires require an invitation’ thing was a bullshit wives tale that was told to children so they’d feel safe.  
  
Connor’s vision went, nothing but lights and shadows in a disorienting fashion. “I can’t see,” he said softly. It always came with a high tide of panic that came rushing in like waves. He hated the daylight, avoided it whenever he could.  
  
He heard Hank’s sigh, then felt his hand, gentle on his shoulder. “Step toward me,” Hank said gruffly. “Where are you injured… might be a shorter list to tell me where you ain’t.”  
  
“Most of the blood isn’t mine,” Connor admitted, stepping forward. He reached out, trying to feel something solid, something to ensure he felt less lost. His fingers skimmed along Hank’s shirt before Hank grabbed his hand with his own, dragging him inside.  
  
“Better now?” Hank asked as Connor heard the door shut.  
  
“A bit.” The sunlight coming through the front window ensured he looked away from the living room, but he had some semblance of his vision back. “Do you have anywhere with black-out drapes.”  
  
“I’m a cop and a hunter, of course I do,” he replied gruffly, but dragged Connor along and into the bedroom. With the door shut, and the heavy drapes already closed they were plunged straight into the darkness. Connor’s eyes immediately adjusted. “How bad are you injured?”  
  
“Careful, Hank,” Connor teased. “It almost sounds like you care.”  
  
Hank switched on the light, and crossed his arms. Connor was distracted by a vein in the man’s forearm. “I just don’t want to have to explain to the council why one of their vampires died in my house.”  
  
“I’ve been in worse shape than this, I’m not in danger of dying.” He reached up and undid the first few buttons of his shirt before he glanced over at Hank while he continued. “My side is a little torn up.”  
  
“Why the hell would you come here?” Hank asked, glaring, but his eyes did follow the motion of Connor’s hands. “I’m not one of your blood-bags.”  
  
“Don’t be rude. I have blood-donors.”  
  
“Whatever. Why the hell didn’t you go to one of them. Or to the council?”  
  
“I have information about a mutual target that I figured you might like to hear about.”  
  
At that Hank’s eyes widened a little, eyebrows did a small jump- interested. “Well, what is it?”  
  
“First, I need a few things from you.”  
  
Hank rolled his eyes. “It’s always something with you.”  
  
“I just need your help Hank,” Connor said. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”  
  
Hank huffed out a breath. “Not like I have much of a choice,” he muttered. “What do you need.”  
  
Connor brushed his shirt off of his shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. “I need to get cleaned up.” He undid his belt. “And I need to feed.”  
  
“I’m not your blood-bag.”  
  
“Donor.”  
  
“Connor-”  
  
Connor let out a pained whimper as he touched the frayed edges of the slashes through his stomach. They weren’t as deep as they had been, but the pain had him breathing through clenched teeth. “Fucking werewolves!”  
  
“Daniel did this to you?”  
  
“I’m not sure, he’s with a-” he realized his mistake, already giving out the information. He sighed. “He’s with a pack.”  
  
“That complicates things.”  
  
Connor gave an irritated little ‘hmpf,’ as he unfastened his slacks, and slid them down his legs. When he straightened out, he noticed Hank was looking at the wall. “Really? I sucked you off in an alley, I think we’re beyond the modesty, no?”  
  
Hank’s shoulders remained tense, his eyes wandered over to Connor though. “How,” he cleared his throat, “how many were in this pack?”  
  
“Not sure. There were five, Daniel included, but that isn’t to say there isn’t more. I might have someone who can give me more information, but it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.” Connor winced as his body tried to heal up around something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He really didn’t want to know, and wasn’t looking forward to fishing it out. “Do you mind if I use your shower? Also, do you have a first aid kit?”  
  
“Bathroom’s across across the hall. I’ll find the first aid kit.”  
  
Connor walked around Hank, close enough to touch, closer than he needed to get. He paused and touched Hank’s forearm, pleased when the man hadn’t moved out of the way, or jerked away from the touch like he might have years ago. “Thank you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Hank replied dismissively.  
  
Connor opened the door, the hall didn’t have windows, but the light in the living room killed the right side of his vision, and when he opened the bathroom door he cursed the rest of his vision gone into the blinding light. “You have a window in your bathroom.”  
  
“Yeah, shit, didn’t think to mention it.”  
  
“This house is a fucking nightmare,” Connor muttered to himself, and heard Hank’s laugh much closer than he’d expected.  
  
“Sorry, no blackout drapes in here.”  
  
“Didn’t figure there would be.” Connor frowned. “I might need more of your help than I previously thought.”  
  
“I’m sure you can shower with your eyes closed,” Hank said. Connor jumped when Hank grabbed his hand and deposited a soft bag full of things which he assumed was the first aid kit in his hand. “Don’t know why you need this.”  
  
“I have something in the wound, can’t heal until it’s out. I can do it in your bedroom but I’m going to bleed on your floor. Or you can help me, and do it in the bathroom where it’ll be easier to clean.”  
  
Hank muttered a few creative curses. “Fine. I’ll help.”  
  
Connor was a little surprised by how easily Hank had bent to his will. Usually Hank would argue for arguments sake. Hank’s hands were sudden and heavy on Connor’s shoulders, guiding him.  
  
“Probably easiest to do this in the shower,” Hank said.  
  
“Okay,” Connor agreed. Hank kept at least one hand on him at all times as he moved around to his front, and gently pulled Connor, grabbing the first aid kit from his hand and Connor heard it set down on the ledge of the tub. “Okay, here is the tub. Lift your leg.” Connor did, slow, not wanting to kick the it. Hank’s hand left his arm, went to his knee, down his calf making his leg bend, and his foot touched the edge of the tub. It oriented him to step in, and Hank’s fingertips grazed along the outside of his thigh. “Good.”  
  
Connor was rocked with the memory of Hank’s voice in the alley, rough with arousal. _‘That’s good. So fucking good.’_  
  
“Okay, other leg. Put your hands on my shoulders for balance.” Hank’s hands guided his own up to the man’s shoulders, and Connor held tight. Hank’s hands were on his hips, a thumb brushing along his hipbone and his knees shook for one brief second. “Here, lean back against the wall a bit.” Connor startled slightly as his back touched the cold tile but remained. Hank’s hand left his shoulder, and Connor trembled. He forgot how awfully vulnerable he felt with his sight gone, and to be trapped in a small room with a hunter at the same time, he took long deep breaths. Hank wouldn’t harm him. They snapped at each other, fought on occasion, but they’d never done each other any permanent damage.  
  
He heard the zipper on the first aid kit be tugged open. “Alright,” Hank muttered.  
  
Connor heard a snap, latex gloves. “You know I can’t carry or transmit diseases.”  
  
“I don’t need to be washing your blood out of my nails. Now where is the problem?”  
  
Connor touched his chest, careful at the wound site. “In here,” he prodded gently at one of the wounds, hissed out a pained breath. “Fuck, what is that?”  
  
“Try and stay still,” Hank said. His touch was both welcome, foreign, and setting off dozens of warning bells in Connor’s head. “You’re alright, Connor, deep breath.” Hank’s voice was soothing, and he settled under the gentle touch.  
  
“It’s hard, I can’t see what you’re doing-”  
  
“Want me to talk you through it?”  
  
“Please,” Connor replied, nervously chewing on his lip.  
  
“The wound is bleeding a bit, whatever is in there keeps aggravating it. It’s in there though, can’t see it. Hate to say it, but I’m gonna have to hold open the cut a bit to see what the hell is going on.”  
  
Connor took a deep breath. “Okay, do it.” Hank’s fingers spread the wound, and a small shout escaped before Connor bit down on his lower lip hard enough to break the skin, the scream muffled.  
  
“Sorry,” Hank said softly. “I can see it, looks like- ah fuck.”  
  
The reaction didn’t fill Connor with confidence, but couldn’t find his voice to be snarky about it.  
  
“Let me get the tweezers, I’m not sure-” Hank’s fingers kept his flesh spread. “Okay, I’m going to take it out, this is probably going to hurt.”  
  
Connor could feel the cool metal against his heated wound, something wiggled, and then was dislodged and he sagged back against the tile, Hank’s fingers left the wound. Connor tried to get his ragged breathing under control. “What was it?”  
  
Hank blew out a harsh breath. “Werewolf’s claw.”  
  
Connor hit his head back against the tile. “Fuck.”  
  
“How long was it in there for?”  
  
“A couple hours,” Connor muttered.  
  
A soft hum. “How bad is it going to be for you?”  
  
“It’s just going to slow down the healing of that wound. I’ll need you to bandage it.”  
  
“Okay.” Hank’s hand returned to his hip. “Your knees are shaking.”  
  
“Hungry,” Connor whispered. “Hurts.” He frowned. “I’m losing more blood than I’d estimated I would.”  
  
“Yeah, let’s say I’m glad we did this in the tub,” Hank replied.   
  
Connor wiggled his toes, and could feel his blood. “Stay with me, please.”  
  
Hank was quiet a long moment, but then Connor heard the snap of the latex gloves being removed. “Uh, yeah, I’ll stay in the room.”  
  
“No, in the shower,” Connor clarified. “Shower with me Hank.” The blood was slippery against his feet and he feared moving. “You said so yourself, my knees are shaking. I could fall.”  
  
Hank huffed out a breath. “Fine.”  
  
Connor could hear Hank’s rushing pulse kick up a notch as he grabbed the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down a little. “Need your help.”  
  
“You’re a fucking menace,” Hank muttered under his breath, and Connor smirked.  
  
“You wouldn’t want me to fall.”  
  
Hank’s breathing was slightly laboured already, his thick fingers took over where Connor’s had left off, pulling the fabric down his thighs, and letting them drop to his ankles. “Hold my shoulders, step to the left. There you go, just like that, good.”  
  
“Get out of your clothes,” Connor said. He felt the corner of the wall, and leaned into it. Listened as he waited, feeling cheated out of getting to see Hank stripping out of his clothes. He’d imagined it enough times, he wanted to see the real deal.  
  
“Gonna turn on the water,” Hank said, and that hand returned to Connor’s hip. A second later the faucet sputtered and cool water poured out before steadily turning warm. Hank stepped in, and there was a rattle of the curtain closing. “Shower’s comin’ on.” The warning was appreciated, there was two seconds between the faucet stopping and the shower spraying.  
  
Connor stepped into Hank’s space, pressed their chests together, ignored the sharp flare of pain. “Connor-” it sounded like a warning, but Hank’s hands told a different story. One hand came to rest on the back of Connor’s neck, the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.  
  
Connor preferred to speak like that too, in actions. He kissed Hank’s collarbone, dragged his lips until against his neck, and Hank’s fingers shot up into his hair and pulled him back. “Ah!”  
  
“No biting,” Hank said, his voice rough.  
  
“Wasn’t going to,” Connor replied. It was against the rules, but it was also against Connor’s own moral code of conduct. Hank’s fingers loosened in their grip, and Connor found his way back to Hank’s neck. It was tempting, the hot pulse under his tongue. He fisted his fingers in Hank’s hair, feeling it thick, coarse, and a little wet. He dragged his lips along, his beard until he found his lips, and swallowed the groan from Hank.  
  
Hank’s strong body turned them, and Connor found his back once again against the wall. He didn’t feel trapped, not with Hank’s hand over his body. As wonderful as the kisses were, he turned his head from them, his control slipping.  
  
“You okay?” Hank asked.  
  
“Need to feed.” Connor whimpered, it was hard to tell if his teeth or his cock was aching more. It was dizzying to have Hank so close, and to know he couldn’t indulge. “Please, Hank? I need to.”  
  
“Can I wash you off first?”  
  
As long as he wasn’t kissing Hank dreaming of biting into his plush lip- “Yes.”  
  
They’d have to do this again, Connor decided, in a bathroom where he could see, where they weren’t rushed by his hunger, when he wasn’t bleeding. Hank was quick at dragging the rough wash cloth over Connor’s sensitive skin.  
  
“Rinse,” Hank said, guiding him under the spray. He hissed as he turned and the water pelted down on his open wound, and he quickly turned back into Hank’s arms. “Okay, you’re done, I’ll get you bandaged up.” The water cut off. “Okay, follow me, step out.”  
  
He raised his leg, trusting Hank’s guiding hands to ensure he didn’t fall as he stepped onto the bathmat. The warmth of Hank’s body moved away, and returned with a rough towel, it scratched at his skin as Hank took care to dry his body. He wished he could see something past the blinding light as the towel moved down his legs.  
  
“I’m going to buy you towels,” Connor said.  
  
Hank snorted out a laugh. “You got a problem with them?”  
  
“Oh no,” was Connor’s dry reply. “I love drying off with sandpaper.”  
  
“You’re so dramatic,” Hank replied, and Connor wished he could see the expression because he sounded fond.  
  
Hank’s hands left him, but Connor tracked the noise. Figured Hank was drying himself off, and then something ripped open. “Gauze,” Hank said. “Got to wrap those wounds. Connor stayed still as Hank worked, wrapping a good portion of his chest with the gauze. “Almost done.” He heard the tape being pulled, snapped, and then felt the gentle stroke of Hank’s fingers as he put it in place. “I think that’ll do.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
There was a short pause of heavy silence. “Come on,” Hank grabbed his hands, and pulled. He trusted Hank’s guidance, and followed. “Ready to see again?”  
  
“You have no idea.” The relief was instantaneous as the door to the hall shut, and they were left in the low light of a small lamp in Hank’s bedroom. He blinked away that horrible brightness, and took in Hank’s form, hidden only by the towel around his waist.  
  
“So,” Hank said, shifting like he was readying for a fight.  
  
It pained him to say it but, “you don’t have to do this,” still left his lips.  
  
“Not the neck,” Hank said.  
  
“Is the wrist okay?” Connor asked.  
  
Hank took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay.”  
  
An balance between them shifted. No longer did Connor feel so painfully vulnerable, exposed, and at Hank’s mercy. No, now Hank looked nervous, but Connor didn’t want the man to be at his mercy, he wanted Hank to enjoy, to fall into the pleasure he could provide. He adjusted the pillows, the whole two of them, and added more pillows to the shopping list of things he was going to get for Hank.  
  
“Sit down Hank.” The man stared for a moment, then nodded, and as he walked by, Connor snatched the towel from around his waist, and earned a surprised shout for it.   
  
Hank glared at him, but eventually sat down on the bed, tense, his back ramrod straight and barely even skimming the comfort of the pillows, his eyes following Connor’s slow movements. “Relax,” Connor whispered softly fingers trailing along the inside of Hank’s calf, down to his ankle, and back up in a lazy line. “Have you ever been fed off of?”  
  
Hank shook his head. “Just you the other night.”  
  
Connor smiled. “Oh, Lieutenant,” he murmured, “A couple drops of blood isn’t a feeding.” He got a good grip on both of Hank’s ankles and swiftly pulled him a couple inches down the bed. Hank let out an indignant shout as just his head and shoulders were pillowed. “Relax,” Connor insisted once more. He brushed his hand over Hank’s knee, hand skating higher between the man’s legs. Fingers diverted on their path, trembling as they avoiding Hank’s arousal, control slipping, slipping, _slipping._ His hand moved over Hank’s hip, his stomach, up into the coarse hair of his chest. The heart beat fast but steady under his fingers as he moved onto the bed, straddling Hank’s hips, and ignoring the flare of pain across his chest. “I am going to make you feel so good.”  
  
Connor had enough of a conscious thought to realize just how far he’d fallen, the hunger had become a desperate beast. His hands took Hank’s left arm, and another time he would have appreciated the muscle in it, the strength, but his eyes followed veins under the skin, and a moment later his tongue followed that same path down Hank’s forearm to his wrist.  
  
His teeth ached but they didn’t yet break skin. His eyes shifted to Hank, who already looked half gone, staring at the point of contact, and when their eyes met, Connor bit down.  
  
Teeth broke through skin, blood flooded his mouth, and his eyes rolled back, then shut. A shame, he’d wanted to see Hank’s expression. _Another time, there has to be another time. _He drank, and with it came a slow return of his awareness and control. He could feel Hank’s cock brushing against his own in slow rolls of his hips, and when he ground his hips down, Hank moaned, his large hand on Connor’s thigh clenched before soothing.  
  
Connor pulled his teeth out carefully. He licked at the blood pooling in the punctures wounds until they started to seal all while he stared at the soft, expression on Hank’s face.  
  
“More?” Hank whispered. Connor couldn’t tell if Hank was offering more blood, or asking for more pleasure, and either way Connor was accepting.  
  
He leaned over and yanked open the drawer on the night-table, rifled through until he found a bottle of lube. “Do you have a preference?”  
  
Hank’s hands wandered over his body, up his thighs, carefully over his chest. “Wanna be inside you.”  
  
Connor shuddered at the words, and took Hank in hand, felt the impressive length, the thickness, remembering he couldn’t properly fit Hank in his mouth, at least, not without risking cutting him, and the thought of all that inside him? He whimpered, and nodded, noticing rather belatedly that Hank had taken the lube from his hand.  
  
“Come here,” Hank said, his hand warm on the back of Connor’s neck, he went willingly.  
  
There it was, the equilibrium between them. No longer was one in more control than the other, nor more vulnerable, a balance struck as their lips met. He gasped into the kiss as Hank’s hands spread him, a few fingers wet and sticky against his skin. He bucked back against the hands in his eagerness, warmed by Hank’s responding chuckle.  
  
“Easy now,” Hank murmured. “I’ve got you.”  
  
He burrowed his face against Hank’s neck, took in the scent of him, listened to the steady pumping of blood just under the surface, shook with the control it took for him to stay still as Hank teased his hole with gentle strokes of his fingers.  
  
“Can I mark you?” Connor asked. “I need to know before we start this-”  
  
“Not the neck,” Hank replied.  
  
Connor licked at Hank’s neck anyway, peppering it with kisses. “And can I feed again?”  
  
“Yes,” he replied as his finger finally pressed inside. Connor gasped, and immediately thrust back against it, the pain sudden then fading just as fast. “Careful! You’re so impatient.”  
  
“I waited five years for this.” Connor pushed himself up, hands on Hank’s shoulders. “I’ve been plenty patient,” he said reaching back, guiding Hank’s hand, just the feel of his thick fingers slick with lube sent a shiver down his spine.  
  
“Five years, huh?” Hank raised a brow.  
  
Connor guided two of Hank’s fingers to his hole, pressed them in along with one of his own, shaking at the stretch while trying to string words together to respond. “Five,” he confirmed lamely.  
  
“Just to do this,” Hank chuckled.  
  
“Just this? No,” Connor whispered. “I’d have to make you immortal to get through all the things I’ve thought of doing with you.”  
  
Hank groaned, and dragged him back down for for another kiss. The change in position allowed Hank’s fingers to thrust deeper, and Connor moaned into the kiss.  
  
“Yes, yes!” He groaned, pulling back to search the bed for the discarded bottle of lube. Locating it, he pulled his finger out only to have it replaced by one of Hank’s thicker ones, the breath punched from Connor’s lungs. He trembled uncapping the lube, dispensing way too much in his palm in his eagerness. He rubbed his hands together in effort to warm it a bit before taking Hank’s cock in his hands, slicking the length, squirming in anticipation.  
  
Hank’s skin was far from mark free, life as both a hunter and a police officer had left scars- a star-burst of a bullet, the jagged parallel edges of a werewolf’s claw slashing, the small straight line of a knife wound, but none of those were a vampire’s mark, apart from the small healing marks on Hank’s wrist- his own mark, _his_\- Hank was free of bites- and oh, how Connor wanted to mark him.  
  
He leaned down to lick at Hank’s collarbone, then shifting a bit further down, dragging his teeth a little searching for a good place to bite- it came with the downside of pinning his own hand down, but Hank kept thrusting into his fist while fingering him, harder, and harder still. Connor let out a small cry before pressing his teeth through the skin, not deep enough to feed, just enough that when he pulled back he saw the blood pooling in the mark he’d made.  
  
He dove back down, biting again, and again, in a cluster, stopping only when he realized that Hank had removed his fingers. He sat up a little dazed, and felt Hank’s cock throb in his grip. Hank’s thumb brushed along his chin. “Making a bit of a mess there, Con.”  
  
He grabbed Hank’s wrist, kept him still as he sucked the blood from Hank’s thumb, once clean, he returned to the marks on Hank’s chest, lapping the blood from the punctures, whimpering at the taste.  
  
“No right to be that hot,” Hank muttered so low that if Connor hadn’t had a vampire’s sense of hearing, he would have missed it. Reminded him of of the alleyway when Hank had said something similar while inspecting his sharp incisors. As much as the hunter might want to push him away, there was no denying he had an attraction to vampires at the very least. It irked Connor a little, he didn’t want Hank to have a thing for _vampires_, he wanted Hank to have a thing for _him_.  
  
Connor’s skin was overly sensitive, he could feel the heat and sweat where their bodies touched, the graze of the coarse hair on Hank’s legs, the soft blankets under his knees, the slick hardness pressing up against his own. He broke free of his daze, a hand on Hank’s chest for balance as he shifted, his other hand went between his legs, holding Hank’s cock steady.  
  
He forgot to breathe as he sunk down, luckily he didn’t actually need to. As thick as Hank’s fingers were, he probably could have used a bit more prep. The stretch had him pausing a few times, comforted by Hank’s soft praise, the ‘you’re so good,’ ‘keep going, you can do it,’ ‘so fucking tight for me,’ ‘perfect, baby, perfect,’ affected him every bit as much as the fact that Hank was finally, _finally_ inside of him.  
  
“You okay?” Hank asked.  
  
Of course he was, but it was sweet of Hank to ask. He smirked, and gave a slow sensual roll of his hips. “So good,” Connor replied, as his hips built a slow rhythm. He claimed Hank’s lips with his own, nipped gently, fangs just barely breaking the skin inside his bottom lip.  
  
Hank hissed out a pained breath, but Connor licked into his mouth like he was dying for the taste. Hank swatted his ass for the trouble, and Connor clenched around him in retaliation.  
  
Hank’s hands took up residence on his hips, guiding him, slow on the upstroke, and pulling him down hard enough to make Connor cry out. The wounds on his chest flared with dull pain that was easily ignored considering the overwhelming pleasure tingling along his nerves.  
  
When Hank shifted to plant his feet on the bed, Connor sat up in anticipation of what was coming. Those big hands pulled him down at the same time Hank thrust up into him. “Yes! Yes! Harder. _Please._”  
  
Hank complied, just once. Testing. “Harder?”  
  
“Yes,” Connor cried as the pleasure cascaded through him.  
  
Hank practically growled, and the slap of their skin connecting picked up in frequency and intensity. Connor trembled, the breath punched from his lungs every time Hank filled him.   
  
“Is this what you wanted?” Hank ground out.  
  
“Yes!” Or at the very least it was one of the millions of things he wanted from Hank. He had a detailed list of all the other things, of the places he wanted to mark, the positions he wanted to be in, the way he wanted to be fucked, and the ways he wanted to make love to Hank in return. His feelings tightened in a complicated, knotted spool, frayed with his pleasure.  
  
The pleasure building was nearly as blinding as the sunlight. He grabbed Hank’s left hand, pulled it to his mouth, sucked on his fingers, nearly gagging on them in his overeagerness- quick and impatient before kissing his way down to his wrist where the red marks and some smeared blood still lingered.  
  
Hank was red-faced, sweat had some of his long hair clinging to his skin, panting hard with intensity. “Feed, Connor,” he ordered through clenched teeth.  
  
Connor panted along the heated skin of Hank’s wrist, shaking his head minutely, trying to hang on, wanting to make the moment last. “It’s gonna make me come.”  
  
“Feed,” he repeated, and Connor couldn’t deny the order he so desperately wanted to follow.  
  
He turned head so his teeth could evenly cut through the soft flesh, not that it mattered with the way Hank was ruthlessly thrusting into him, there was no way he could keep from tearing the flesh and surely leaving scars. The blood coated his mouth, and he sucked desperate for, and intoxicated by the taste as he swallowed it down. Between that and the abuse his prostate was taking, he came in spurts on Hank’s chest, his cries muffled, as he held Hank’s wrist tighter, closer.  
  
Hank slowed his thrusts, and stopped. Connor whined and started riding him slow, but Hank held him down. “Cool it,” he said softly, rubbing where Connor would have bruises on his hips if her were human. “You okay?”  
  
Connor shifted his gaze to Hank, realized it was all distorted and blinked a few times, tears falling from his eyes.  
  
Hank’s brows drew down low, and his free hand came up to cradle his face, thumb brushing away the tears. “Are you okay?” he asked once again.  
  
Connor ran his tongue along the skin of Hank’s wrist, traced along where his teeth were still embedded, and went to war with himself about wanting more, but needing to reply. As gently as he could he pulled out his teeth. “It’s just a lot, but very good,” Connor lapped at the wound, sealing it. Hank tried to lift him one handed, but Connor wiggled a little sitting back down with a little cry, he breathed through the bright burst of _too much._ “You haven’t come yet.”  
  
“You’re oversensitive,” Hank said softly. “It’s okay.”  
  
“Hmm, it is,” Connor said, grabbing Hank’s wrists and pinning them down near his head using the speed and strength that gave him an advantage. He thrust back nice and slow, feeling the drag of Hank’s cock against his oversensitive walls. “It’s just fine.”  
  
“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Hank muttered.  
  
“I know.” Connor’s legs shook as he fought against the overwhelming_ too much, too much, too much_, slowly riding Hank’s cock. He released Hank’s wrists, relatively sure the man wasn’t going to forcefully remove him, and draped his body over Hank’s. “You taste so good,” Connor said, pausing as he took a breath, his body desperately wanted a break. “You feel so good, want you to come inside me, I need you to.”  
  
“That fucking mouth of yours,” Hank growled.  
  
“Need you to fuck me, Hank. I need- I want it- I can’t keep- please.” Connor struggled to string together his words. “Hold me down, fuck me through it, fill me- however you want, however you want-”  
  
Connor found himself on his back a second later, Hank’s body a heavy but comforting weight over him, his cock barely still inside. Hank shifted up onto his knees, taking that weight and warmth with him. His hands fit right behind Connor’s knees, pressing his legs to his chest as he slammed back in with enough force to make Connor scream.  
  
“Try not to alert the neighbours,” Hank said, his voice stern, but his expression fond.  
  
It was too much, pleasure so sharp it edged onto pain, he twisted his body part of him wanting to break free, the other wanting to stay in place and take it. He couldn’t bite Hank, not like this, couldn’t kiss him, couldn’t hold him-  
  
“Hank,” he cried out, reaching, tears in his eyes. He had said ‘however you want,’ and he’d take it, but he wanted-  
  
“Shh,” Hank’s hands slipped from his legs, and he came down to his elbows, still thrusts losing speed, gaining power. “You’re doing so good, baby, you _feel_ so good.”  
  
Connor touched, cradling Hank’s face long enough to pull him down for a kiss, fingers over his pulse point, down his chest, around his shoulders, pulled him closer, dragged his nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The overwhelming sharp pleasure was still driving him mad, but he felt more grounded as he held tightly to Hank, their bodies moving together.  
  
Hank’s tongue grazed along his lip, and one of his sharper teeth, it did nothing to deter him from the kiss, and seemed to actually spur him on. Connor could taste Hank’s blood once again, and whimpered.  
  
The thrusting became erratic, and Hank’s forehead pressed to Connor’s. “Connor, Connor-” his name is mangled the next time, out on a deep groan, and Connor’s arms and legs around Hank tighten.  
  
Connor shut his eyes, content with Hank’s weight over him, running his hands slowly up and down his back.  
  
Hank pulled back after a minute, slowly, wincing as he reached back to hold his lower back. “Fuck, I’m getting old,” he said, but it didn’t lessen the smile on his face.  
  
Connor glared, but wore a playful smirk. “I’ve got at least a hundred and fifty years on you.”  
  
“Really?” Hank’s eyes lit up with mischief. “You don’t look a day over a hundred and thirty.”  
  
“Oh fu-” Hank slowly pulled his softening cock out of him, and Connor forgot how he was going to finish the sentence, especially with the way that Hank was staring at his abused hole, and he could feel the heat of Hank’s come spilling out of him. Hank’s thumb caught some of it, trying to press it back in only for Connor to reach out with his quick reflexes, grabbing Hank’s wrist to still him. “No more,” Connor said. “I can’t take any more.”  
  
“You took more than enough.” Hank smiled, bent down enough to kiss Connor’s knee. “We should have done that years ago.”  
  
“Would have if you weren’t so stubborn,” Connor replied, reaching out for one of the pillows and pulling it under his head. Between the physical toll of the fight, the healing, and sex, Connor was exhausted. “Get down here, sleep.”  
  
“I slept through most of the night,” Hank said, but even he looked exhausted.  
  
“Then lay with me,” Connor enticed.   
  
Hank looked down at himself. “I really should shower.”  
  
Connor grabbed Hank’s hand and gave a gentle pull. “We can shower together when night falls, I have ideas.”  
  
Hank sighed, but laid down. “You’re going to throw my back out, I just know it.”  
  
Connor snuggled into the heat of Hank’s body, his head on Hank’s shoulder. He sighed as Hank’s arm went around his back and pulled him closer. “Don’t worry,” Connor whispered. “I’ll take good care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have more of the OT3...also, is that a shred of plot I see?


	4. In The Daylight

It wasn’t the sting, or deep ache of the wounds on his chest that woke Gavin, it was the lack of the two bodies he’d been sharing the bed with. He reached out, still half-asleep to find the sheets cold, but he could still catch the scent of both Niles and Victor. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where they’d went. The sound of the shower running gave them away. The bathroom door had been left open a crack, and the scent of bergamot, cedar wood, and hints of pear in Niles’s body wash were familiar, and comforting. 

The shower wasn’t the only thing he heard though. Victor’s moans might not be as familiar as Niles’s, but they were every bit as enticing. 

Gavin sat up slowly, the ache worsening with the motion. He paused once upright to catch his breath. The floor was cold under his bare feet, but he shuffled toward the bathroom and the heated tiles. The glass shower had fogged up, but a pair of hands were pressed flat against the glass wall, and from the groans he heard, he knew it had to be Victor. 

Gavin removed what little clothing he still had before pulling open the glass door. The impression left by the fogged up figures was nothing compared to the real deal. Victor turned his head the moment the door opened, clearly startled but the fact that he immediately relaxed when he saw Gavin pleased the werewolf. 

Victor’s hands were against the glass, his hardened body bent half-way over, Niles working three of his fingers in him, at this point in knowing Niles, Gavin wasn’t surprised by the bottle of lube in the shower. 

“Get in,” Victor said. “You’re letting the heat out.”

“And get washed up,” Niles said, his nose twitching- Gavin figured from the scent of the other werewolves. “I haven’t forgotten my promise.”

Gavin didn’t need to be told twice, he stepped in and shut the door. The spray of the rainfall shower-head was gentle enough that it didn’t aggravate his still healing wounds. The new skin was tight, raw in areas, small sections still open, bending to grab the body wash from the bench had him growling as the pain flared. 

Victor let out a little whimper, and Gavin’s attention immediately went to him. Niles had pulled Victor’s back to his chest. “Will you help me get him washed up?”

Victor’s head lulled back on Niles’s shoulder as he looked over at Gavin. They looked good together, the scent of Niles and his body-wash all over Victor was confusing to his senses. Victor’s scent was already one he knew as friendly, but the two of them together just smelled like pack. Victor stepped out of Niles’s embrace, and held out a hand. It took a few seconds for Gavin to get the hint, but passed over the body wash. 

Niles had a few sea sponges, and Victor grabbed one of them coating it generously in the same soap they both had used. Victor held one shoulder, while washing the other, the sponge soft, and gentle as the hand using it. “Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing at the wounds, then back up for his answer. 

“Mostly aches,” Gavin admitted. “Hurts to bend though.” 

Victor hummed in understanding. Gavin knew the SWAT Captain was no stranger to injuries either, and he was stuck with human healing. Victor opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as quick, averting his gaze. He continued with the slow, careful lather, trying to get the blood without aggravating the still healing areas. 

Niles had washed his hands, and pushed the water back from his hair, leaving it combed back. He moved around them, and Gavin didn’t pay much attention, not with the way Victor’s hand kept moving lower, cleaning around his ribs, then lower to his hips. He felt Niles move behind him before those long fingers were threading through his hair, the scent of the shampoo building with the suds. 

It felt good, not just the hands on him, but the general feeling of being cared for. Being a werewolf with no pack left him struggling, untethered at times, but Niles had become a lighthouse to guide him home.

Victor paused at his hips, not going lower but staring at him with an intensity that said he wanted to. Gavin gently grabbed the other man’s wrist and guided him further down. Victor’s smile was small but pleased and he returned to his original task, crouching even to gently rub the sponge over his legs. The image of Victor, practically kneeling in front of him gave him all kinds of ideas. 

The nails raking through his hair were nice, even when Niles clenched his fist in the longer strands and gave a light tug. The vampire nuzzled against his exposed neck. “You smell better.” 

“I smell like you.” 

Niles groaned. “Exactly.” 

There was a hint of teeth against his exposed flesh, but he knew Niles well enough to trust him, he was safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t bite while Gavin was in such a condition. 

When Victor stood once more, task complete, he grabbed Gavin by the hand and pulled him closer, under the shower head. It fell like soft rain and he tipped his head back. He raised his arms to help rinse the shampoo from his hair, but the pain shot through his chest and he hissed out a breath as he let his arms fall back down to protect the wound. 

“Here,” Victor stepped in closer, and ran his hands through Gavin’s hair. Gavin couldn’t help but lean into the touch, and when Victor’s hands lingered on the back of his neck he realized just how close they were standing. Victor’s lips close enough to kiss, sharing breath. “I think it’s all out now.”

As much as he wanted to just grab Victor by the back of the neck and see if he tasted as good as Gavin imagined, the wounds in his chest still weren’t permitting much movement. 

He must have gotten some of his desire across in a look though because Victor’s lips were on his, lingering only a few seconds before he slowly pulled back. “This okay?”

Gavin answered by capturing Victor’s lips once more, grabbing his hips and pulling him in. It was worth the pain to have no space between them, to feel the hardness pressed into his hip, occasionally grinding against his own. 

“You two look delicious together,” Niles practically purred, crowding into the space, his body pressing against Gavin’s side. Niles kissed Gavin’s shoulder, letting his fangs linger over the flesh for a moment before leaving soft kisses in their wake. “But I did make a promise.” 

“Oh fuck,” the words fell from Gavin’s lips as Niles slowly lowered to his knees. Niles tucked his head away from the spray, and shifted back so the water wouldn’t be hitting him in the face. Content with his position, he pulled Gavin a little closer by the hips. Victor didn’t leave though, he stayed, pressed to Gavin’s side looking a little tired- expected after being fed on the night before. 

Gavin couldn’t help but tighten his grip around Victor as Niles licked at his cock like it was something that deserved to be savoured. Niles had to know what he was doing when he stared up with those bright blue eyes, they hit like a punch in the gut and his free hand went to tangle in Niles’s wet hair, not to guide, but to ground himself. 

The vampire’s long fingers dug into the muscles of Gavin’s thighs, as Niles slowly dragged his tongue along the underside of Gavin’s cock. “We will have to do this again once you’re healed,” Niles said, his voice low, almost distracted. “Do this again when it’s safe to bite.” 

The thought of the vampire’s euphoric venom brought forth memories of the last time they’d indulged in such a way. His chest had been littered with bites, most of them were just bites with injections of the venom, only that last one had Niles pulled from him, drank his blood deep as their hips moved desperately while reaching completion. Given his accelerated healing along with the vampire licking at the wounds, they’d closed without leaving a permanent mark. Almost unfortunate, but the thought of doing it all over again had him involuntarily thrusting his hips as a whine left his lips. 

Niles was always careful with his fangs, but it never failed to make Gavin a little nervous to have his cock riding the fine line of danger, but trusting Niles like this had never failed to pay off. 

The things Niles could do with his tongue. “Oh, fuck.” 

He threaded his fingers through Niles’s hair, petting him, watching droplets fall from the strands and slide down his hardened body. He’d love to trace them with his fingers, or better yet his tongue, but he didn’t have the energy. He leaned into Victor, and shoved his nose against the man’s neck. Even with the body wash, he could still catch the scent markers he identified as Victor, it wasn’t just the soap that was confusing his senses, it was just the man, just that instinct to adopt _pack_. 

He whined, and shoved down the instinct to _mark, hold, keep,_ while maintaining enough brainpower to keep his hips still.

Even when he finally lifted his head to actually get a good look at Niles on his knees—it was rare and he wanted to savour it—he kept a hold on Victor, kept him close, didn’t want him to leave. Gavin couldn’t think straight, not with those lips wrapped around him, those blue eyes gazing up at him with entirely too much emotion for them to still be _just fucking around. _

Victor nipped at his ear, and his knees shook. He was so close, so fucking close, a whine stuck in his throat. Victor’s lips brushed along the stubble of his jaw, cheek, lips finding lips, and Gavin melted into the kiss, the taste, the pleasure overwhelming, and Niles raked his nails down Gavin’s thighs and he was lost. 

Less kissing, more gracelessly gasping against Victor’s lips as the white spots in his vision went away. He glanced down at Niles in time to see him spitting. 

“Sorry,” Gavin muttered. “Got carried away?”

“You’re lucky you’re injured,” Niles replied without the heat of an actual threat. He stood with the fluidity a human just couldn’t manage. “Do you feel any better?” 

He had half a mind to suggest they fuck to find out, but there was a bigger part of him that wanted nothing more than to scent mark Niles, and keep him and Victor both in bed with him all day, to keep his pack close and safe while he finished healing. 

Pack was so important to a werewolf, especially an alpha- but his history with packs was a mess of _home, love, safe, no, no, no, no, no_. He flinched at the thought alone, held Victor tighter. Victor, a human, a friend and now, whatever the fuck they were, something casual and playful, tethered by Niles who Gavin couldn’t separate from, no matter how hard he’d tried to keep his distance in the past, he’d continuously failed. 

He considered distancing himself from Victor, keeping the bond from fully forming and making it harder on himself when it inevitably fell apart. Humans didn’t _understand_. Hell, half the time Gavin didn’t, he hadn’t been with his pack long enough, had refused and been refused by other packs as he’d grown. 

Victor didn’t seem to mind the supernatural though, not with freely being one of Niles’s private blood-donors. It wasn’t like Gavin’s status as a werewolf was something hidden at the DPD either, nor had it been something he’d hidden from Victor when his unit had been stationed at the precinct while their building was under major renovations. 

Niles’s fingers cupped his jaw with a little more force than necessary. “Gavin?” 

He was about to answer when he heard something, it was too hard to tell what with the distance, and the shower still running, but it was something in the house. “Were you expecting company?” 

Niles went eerily still. “No one except Connor. Unless I’ve seriously lost track of time, night hasn’t fallen yet. He wouldn’t have found his way here on his own.” He stepped around Gavin to turn off the water. 

Victor grabbed Gavin’s hand and pushed open the shower door, pulling him gently. Gavin stepped out, and focussed on following the noise, but was distracted by Victor passing him a towel. He grabbed it but didn’t use it. 

Low rumble of a voice, he knew it but couldn’t place it. Another voice, Connor? 

“I think it might just be your brother,” Gavin said. “But he’s with someone else.”

“Yes, I heard that,” Niles said, quickly drying off. “He knows better than to bring people here.” He stormed from the room, still wet in spots. 

Knowing that it was Connor made Gavin relax slightly. Niles could handle his brother and the unexpected guest, but he didn’t like the idea of Niles being out of his sight. He didn’t realize he was growling until he caught the way Victor had tensed up, and was watching Gavin with that intense look he sometimes got, trying to figure out a solution to a tactical problem. 

Gavin didn’t want to be Victor’s _problem_, whined without meaning to, but Victor’s shoulders loosened a little. 

Niles hung onto the door-frame as he leaned into the room, already fully dressed. “Stay here.”

Gavin prickled at the order, but Niles gone before he could argue. He dried off, and remembered that his clothes were either in tatters or stained with blood. With the towel tucked around his waist, he walked into the bedroom, and went straight for Niles’s walk-in closet. 

“Who the fuck needs this many suits?” Gavin had seen Niles in more casual clothing- things that likely never left the comfort of his own home. The closet smelled like bullshit chemicals that made up ‘meadow rain’ or ‘midnight blooms’ or some other bullshit laundry detergent names. The suits smelled slightly like dry cleaning chemicals, others like they’d been in a box for too long, he followed his nose to a smaller section of clothes. Plain t-shirts, some lounge pants. 

The hamper was at the back of the closet, but before he tossed his towel in, he grabbed one of Niles’s button-ups. It smelled more of Niles, soap and that expensive imported cologne, of skin and blood. It was still clean, it’s not like the vampire could sweat, but Gavin assessed it was probably too tight to comfortably fit on his shoulders. He found a t-shirt a bit further down, and pulled it on. 

He caught sight of Victor in the doorway. “He’s not going to be mad if you take something,” Gavin said. “God knows I’ve fucked up a few of his shirts, but he just uses it as an excuse to get new ones.” 

Victor gave his head a tiny shake. “I brought a bag with me.” 

“So?” Gavin didn’t bother trying to steal a pair of Niles’s boxer briefs, last time he’d tried he’d got them halfway up his thigh before they nearly cut off circulation and looked like the worlds worst garter. Some of his own stuff had somehow migrated into Niles’s house in a way the two of them had never talked about. 

He avoided thinking about the implications as he opened one of the drawers that he refused to think of as _his_, even if the only things in it belonged to him; two pairs of boxer briefs, a red thong with a bow—which Niles bought as a joke, but neither of them were laughing by the end—a pair of socks, a t-shirt with a cat in a cape with fangs saying ‘catcula’—Niles always tried to keep a straight face about it but usually failed—a pair of sweatpants, and miscellaneous items like pocket change, a phone charger he’d been looking for for two weeks, and a button from one of his jackets. He grabbed the boxer-briefs and socks, and closed the drawer hoping Victor hadn’t caught sight of the thong… unless… _no. _

He finished getting dressed, having to return to the drawer for his sweatpants when Niles’s were both too tight, and long enough to cover his feet. 

Victor had finished getting dressed while Gavin had been in the closet, and was sitting on the bed glaring at the door. “Can you hear what’s going on downstairs?” 

Gavin stilled and focussed, it wasn’t like he could deny he was curious too. 

“-until the renovations are done at your house, that was the agreement.”

“Niles-”

“You bring someone into my home-”

“We need to speak to Gavin.” 

“He is injured, and I will not be having you two bothering him now.” 

“Please, Ni.” 

“It’s about the werewolf who attacked my son-” and Gavin finally placed the third voice. 

“Fuck,” Gavin whispered. 

“What?” Victor tensed like he was waiting for a fight. 

“Connor’s guest is Hank.” 

“Who?”

“Anderson, like, Lieutenant Anderson.” 

It took a second, and Gavin watched the moment Victor placed the name, and horror dawned on his face. “Do you think he recognized my car?” 

“Sounds like he has other things on his mind,” Gavin replied. “I should go down though, doesn’t sound like Connor’s going to be leaving until they talk to me.” 

Victor frowned, sparing a glance at Gavin’s chest, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. 

Gavin wanted to kiss him again, to press him down against the mattress and keep him pinned their with his own body, to make sure that any other werewolf, or vampire would be able to smell Gavin on his skin. It was wrong, Victor was human, Victor was not pack, and for fuck sakes, they were friends—apparently now with maybe benefits? He needed space enough to figure it out, space to let the instinct to _mark, hold, keep_ fizzle out. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t reach out and touch like he longed to. Following the sounds of the still hissed out argument, he could practically taste Niles’s anger, felt it in his own blood as he got closer—and he couldn’t deny that Niles was pack, that some part of him had clung so close to the man that Gavin could literally feel it in a way he could scarcely remember. 

_Don’t think about it. Never think about it. _

Silence fell over the room as Gavin leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “You wanted to speak to me?” 

Niles still looked furious, but didn’t try to send Gavin away. 

“We need to discuss those werewolves from last night,” Connor said. “One of them is a wanted criminal.” 

Hank had his arms crossed. “It’s the werewolf that attacked Cole.” 

“I didn’t know any of them, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gavin said. He knew of Cole, of course he did. Werewolf attacks prominent Lieutenant’s son- the media had a field day and crimes against werewolves went up eight percent overnight. “But I’ll help if I can.” 

“Daniel Greer,” Connor said. “Do you know anything about him? Or is it possible for you to ask around. Other werewolves will be more likely to speak with you.” 

Gavin frowned, he wasn’t so sure about that. “Don’t know him, but the other werewolves all smelled similar, definitely pack. It’s possible they’re part of Manfred’s pack over at Jericho, word is they’ll pick up any stray. It’s caused problems for them in the past.” 

“Would you be able to get me in to speak with them tonight?” Connor asked. 

“I’m going with you,” Hank said to Connor, not a question a fact. Gavin really started looking at the hunter and the vampire.

“No hunters on pack territory,” Gavin said. “Getting Connor on will be hard enough but he’s at least part of the council.” 

“Do you happen to have any friends in the pack, maybe it would be more beneficial for you to speak with them directly,” Connor suggested. “Hank has told me you are the DPD’s liaison.” 

“I’m just the only detective who also happens to be a werewolf in Central, I have the position because there isn’t anyone else who fits the requirements, not because I’m a actually respected in the community.” 

Niles cracked two eggs on a frying pan, apparently content to monitor the situation, but not participate. 

“I’ll go talk to them though,” Gavin said. 

“Not until you’re healed you won’t,” Niles said. 

Gavin couldn’t help the growl ripping it’s way through his throat. 

Niles didn’t seem to care, he just put two pieces of bread in the toaster before flipping the eggs over, careful enough not to break the yolks. Only once he was done did he put the spatula down and turn to Gavin. “You’re too smart to go into a potentially dangerous situation while injured.” 

It was smart for Niles to go for praising his intelligence, it made it so arguing with him would make Gavin look foolish. “I’m not going right this minute,” Gavin said. “I’ll be fine in a few more hours.” 

“We’ll stay nearby,” Hank said. “In case you need back-up.” 

The toast popped up, and Niles plated it, before putting the two over-hard eggs on top, sprinkling them with Himalayan pink salt and fresh ground pepper. He set the plate on the island by one of the stools, then looked to Gavin expectantly. 

Gavin suspected that Niles was playing into Gavin’s pack instincts, that on some level the vampire knew just how attached Gavin had grown to be. No other werewolf would ever recognize Gavin’s attachment to Niles _true pack_, but Gavin still saw him as just that. 

He went to the food, it smelled good, and tasted even better. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was until that first bite.

“If this asshole just joined a pack, it should be easy to get the pack to help us out,” Hank said. “Greer has a long list of priors, looks bad on the pack as a whole.”

“Depends,” Gavin said, with his mouth full, he waited until he swallowed to continue. “Packs are—for the most part—utterly loyal to one another. However, it usually takes a while for someone to really integrate into a pack, if they do at all.” He shrugged. “We’re better off hoping he isn’t really pack yet otherwise we’re going to have fight on our hands, and It’ll have to go to the higher powers in the council.” 

Every bite made him feel a little better, filled the hollow in his belly, and his wounds didn’t ache so much, already healing faster with energy to sustenance to actually burn through. 

He wanted to praise Niles, and that feeling of _mark, hold, keep,_ was back but he was even more prickly with the audience. 

“Regardless of which way this goes,” Niles said, grabbing the empty plate. “You’ve reached the end of my hospitality. The sun is down, and none of this is _my_ problem.” He placed the plate in the sink and glared at his brother. “And if you bring a hunter into my home again, _we_ are going to have a problem. Have I made myself clear?” 

Connor looked angry, but nodded. He grabbed Hank’s hand, not bothering in the least to hide the fact that they were something more than colleagues. “We’ll meet you outside, Gavin.” 

Gavin nodded to Connor, and watched the two leave, waiting until he heard the heavy front door slam shut. “Thanks,” he said softly as he rounded the island. He put his hands on the counter on either side of Niles, crowding his space. 

Niles tugged on the hem of the shirt. “This is mine.” 

‘What are you going to do about it,’ would invite something they didn’t have time for. “I like it,” Gavin said with a shrug. “Smells like you.” 

Niles appeared conflicted, his thumb sneaking under the hemline and lightly grazing his skin. “Is that wise to wear while going to speak to an unknown pack?” 

“I’m going with your brother, they’re already going to smell vamp on me.”

“Be safe for me?” The way he worded it so carefully, not an order to ‘be safe’ but ‘for me’ and of course, he couldn’t protect Niles if he was careless and got himself injured again. Not that Niles needed protection, but logic and instinct rarely intersected. 

“I should go before Hank starts paying attention, and noticing the DPD parking pass on Vic’s windshield.”

Niles lifted the shirt, cool fingers grazed Gavin’s skin. Niles stared at the marks on his chest, those angry red lines that were already fading around the edges. He would be fine, in a couple more hours, and maybe another meal, and he’d be left with faint white lines as the only evidence that there had ever been any damage at all. 

It seemed to be enough to appease Niles’s concern, because he tugged the shirt back down. “They’re waiting,” Niles said, although he didn’t look happy about it. “And I need to tend to Victor.” 

Gavin was surprised by that obnoxious happy purr/growl he tried to keep at bay. The thought of the two of them together didn’t lead to jealousy, but it did bring back the memories from before, of Niles biting deep into Victor’s thighs, of his friend’s hand wrapped around Gavin’s ankle, watching as the usually stoic captain fell apart so beautifully. He wanted to be with them, but also respected the time they needed together alone. 

He leaned in and licked the line of Niles’s throat. “Take good care of him for me.” He was uncomfortable the moment the words left his lips. 

“Oh, I plan to,” Niles replied. He kissed Gavin once, twice, teeth nipping lightly on his bottom lip as he pulled away. “Same as I plan to take care of you when you get back. Do finish this nonsense with my brother soon. I’ve missed you.” 

The confession made it harder to leave, but Gavin had a job to do. Werewolves like Daniel Greer gave all of them a bad name, it would be Gavin’s pleasure to take him down. 


	5. Howl at the Moon

A neon open sign lit up the window of the restaurant. Hank parked his car in the mostly empty lot and stepped out. Connor emerged from the passenger side, and Hank still wasn’t used to the _otherworldly_ beauty he held. The vampire’s eyes shifted around their immediate vicinity as he walked around the hood of the car, it looked casual, but Hank knew that Connor was a hunter—a different kind than Hank of course, but a hunter all the same. 

The back door slammed shut, and Gavin stared up at the sky. Clouds were rolling in, and the weather report on the radio during the drive had warned them of rain before the morning. The moonlight brought out the dark circles under Gavin’s eyes. 

“We’re wasting time here,” Gavin said. “We should just go talk to the pack.”

“You’re still healing,” Hank said. “I at least owe you a meal for this.” 

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” Connor said, taking a few steps backward—toward the restaurant. “Werewolves will be-”

“I fucking know what it means,” Gavin said, shoving his hands into his jacket—or rather _the_ jacket—looked more sophisticated than anything Gavin ever wore to work. 

Hank knew too what the incoming full moon meant too. Being a hunter for so many years, he knew better than to even bother trying to hunt a werewolf this close to the full moon. Too wild, too unpredictable, too powerful. More often than not, werewolves would just stick to their packs, and densely wooded areas and be fine. Talking right now during a time where werewolf instincts were at their peak didn’t have the highest margin for success. 

Gavin took the lead into the restaurant, seemed incapable of holding back the instinct to sniff the air once they were inside. 

A pretty little waitress walked over to them with an air of confidence and a bright smile. “Good evening, gentlemen, table for three?” 

Hank gave a nod, and the three of them followed. 

“A booth?” she asked—to all three of them stating no. She looked surprised but turned to a table and set out their menus. “I’ll be back in a few.” 

The three of them settled into their seats. Hank knew none of them were particularly pleased with the position, but the couple in the back corner looked harmless enough, and the other patrons were few and far between. 

Hank wanted a beer. Honestly, he wanted something stronger, but that wasn’t for tonight. A clear head, quick reflexes, those were things he needed, and couldn’t risk. 

He could tell that Gavin wasn’t fully healed, an arm still draped over his wounded mid-section like he felt the need to protect it from further damage. Gavin’s attention snapped over to where a woman had dropped her fork on the floor, he stared a moment, before returning his attention to the menu. 

The radio played some top forty bullshit, but at least it was low enough to be ignored, and for them to be able to have an easy conversation without having to raise their voices. Hank stared at the liquor along the back wall. 

“What’ll you be having?” Connor asked, nudging his arm, distracting him from the siren’s song. 

Hank shrugged. “A burger I guess. Do you ever miss it? Food, I mean.”

“I don’t miss it enough to eat it. Doesn’t taste the same anyway,” Connor replied with a shrug. “Not worth my body waking up to deal with processing it, it’s like three days of the worst stomach cramps.”

It sounded so _human_. 

Their waitress returned and they ordered—Gavin ordering enough food for three people, but Hank kept his mouth shut. He knew werewolves could really pack food away—especially this close to the full moon. 

The waitress eyed Connor while delivering the meals. “You sure you don’t want anything?” 

“Quite,” he said without even sparing her a glance. 

She left, and Gavin snorted. “She’d of let you feed off her.” 

Hank didn’t miss the way Connor’s eyes met his. “I have no need.” 

Gavin missed the moment. Or ignored it. Either way, Hank was grateful. The werewolf worked on the chicken wrap first, like a warm up to the bigger plates. 

“So, Gavin,” Connor said. “How did you meet Nines.” 

“Ask him,” Gavin replied, taking another bite and shutting down that conversation entirely. 

They didn’t talk much, it wasn’t a social meal but a fuel stop. Hank could barely finish his one plate, the burger was thick and had onion rings on it, and the side of fries were crispy the way he liked. He watched with a kind of horrified fascination as Gavin finished the wrap, loaded potato skins, a pound of wings, and a burger with the side fries.

Hank paid the tab, even as the waitress kept eying Connor. 

The three of them walked back out into the night. Hank stopped outside of the car before unlocking it. They were working off of a hunch, nothing proven, tonight might not amount to anything, but God he wanted it to. He remembered the blood loss, the crying, the nightmares Cole had afterward—the separation as his wife left, got custody of Cole and left Hank with visitations of his son. They had to arrest this son of a bitch. 

“You really think he’s with the Manfred pack?”

“I met the old man once. He’ll take in literally anyone. Even me—had I chose to stay,” Gavin shifted looking uncomfortable. “Every werewolf in Michigan knows where to go if they’re desperate.” 

Hank wanted to ask, but figured he would get some snarling growl in response at best. “Okay.” He unlocked the doors. 

Back on the road, the GPS guided them into a quieter part of the city, and Gavin pointed out a road that wasn’t even on the map, another turn, and then told him to park. 

“Stay here,” Gavin advised. 

“I still think I should come with you,” Connor said. “I am part of the Council.” 

“And this close to a full moon that’ll just put everyone more on edge.” 

“So will a werewolf that isn’t pack.” 

“Did I not save your dumbass the other night? Shut it, I can handle myself.” Gavin was out of the car before Connor could reply. 

“Did I not save your dumbass the other night?” Connor muttered to himself in a mocking tone. “My car seats are fucking ruined with werewolf blood.” 

“That bad?”

“Well, you saw what I looked like after that fight, and I was able to walk away on my own.” Connor cracked the window, the cool breeze kept the temperature in the car at a reasonable level. 

Every once in a while they’d hear a howl, and his hunter instincts said it was a werewolf, not a true wolf. 

“How long have you known Gavin?” 

“A handful of years, known _of_ him for a while longer. We worked at the same precinct, but it was a while before we were on a level where we actually had to see each other regularly. Why?”

“Niles never mentioned him.” Connor sighed heavily. “I just worry.”

Hank’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Gavin’s a bit temperamental, prickly as they come, but at the core, he’s a good guy. Surprisingly good with scared kids, they’ll choose him over a human officer any day of the week and none of us have been able to figure it out.” 

“Do you trust him?”

“Obviously.” 

Connor nodded as if Hank’s measure of Gavin was enough. 

“This is taking too long,” Hank said, breaking a long silence. 

The watch Connor checked on his wrist probably cost more than Hank’s beat up car. “It’s only been sixteen minutes.” 

It’s not right that he should be sitting in a car while Gavin goes and plays fetch with their suspect. He tried to rid himself of the thought, Gavin wouldn’t appreciate his work being reduced to a game meant for _dogs_. 

It’s another ten minutes before Hank saw Gavin illuminated by the headlights, kicking up the dust on the dirt road. He walked over to Hank’s side, and motioned for him to roll the window down. 

“Well?” Hank asked. 

“Sounds like our guy is there, but Carl wants to talk to you. Says Connor can come too.” 

“Carl’s the pack alpha, right?” 

“More or less, a lot of the responsibilities are shifting to his son, the whole pack is a little less secure during this time so stay close to me.” 

“You think this is a set up?”

“If it were, do you think I’d be asking you to get out of the car?” Gavin raised a brow and took a few steps back, letting Hank open the door. 

“Why isn’t Carl just handing him over—if he’s willing to speak with us about the issue,” Connor asked, adjusting his tie. 

“Probably just wants to make sure if he’s giving up a werewolf to the council that we’re all fucking sure this guy is guilty,” Gavin shrugged. “Whatever, if it gets us our guy who gives a fuck if he wants to get chatty first.”

The darkness put Hank on edge. He tapped the button for the flashlight on his phone, illuminating at least a few steps ahead. He kept it up enough that he could see Gavin’s back. Neither of his otherworldly companions had any trouble with seeing in the dark. 

Gavin led the way down the dirt road until there was finally more light. Small cottages, and a cluster of Airstream trailers were spread out over the land, a large bonfire had a gathering of people, but there were also some werewolves lounging in their wolf forms, and Hank wondered if there were more prowling in the woods. Likely. 

A man was waiting for them. His eyes were different colours, but both glinted yellow when hit by the flashlight beam. He growled at Hank, but physically took a step back. “Don’t stray, I won’t be responsible if you do.”

Gavin fell back into step with Hank, keeping himself between Hank and the other werewolves who they were drawing attention from, wolves watching them with their bright eyes. 

“That’s Markus,” Gavin muttered. “Carl’s son.” Given the information Gavin gave them earlier, Hank figured this was the son who would be taking over after his father. 

Markus walked up the ramp first, and opened the door to a small log cabin. Beautiful paintings were hung on the wall, another was partially finished, but on an easel by the window. A couple of plush couches sat around the fireplace, they didn’t match. Bottles of paint sat with a stack of books on a small table. The cabin felt like a home, well worn and loved.

A man in a wheelchair was staring into the fire before his attention shifted to them. “Welcome. I must admit, I was surprised when Gavin said that he was here with a Hunter _and_ a Vampire on the Council. Please, come in. Take a seat. Would you care for something to drink- ah, Connor was it? I’m afraid we don’t have anything for your tastes.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Connor said. 

“You already know who we are,” Hank said, glancing at Gavin before returning his attention to Carl. He took a seat on the plush couch, sinking into the comfort, and feeling strangely at ease. “You must also know why we are here.” 

“Of course I do,” Carl said. “Unfortunate business.”

Hank tensed at the growling snarl to his left—not Markus as he’d first assumed, but Gavin. He looked up at Gavin, and his attention was on the dark staircase. “You didn’t say there would be anyone else joining us.”

Markus shifted putting himself between Gavin and the stairs, a snarl ripping from his chest, and it had Hank reaching for his gun, but Connor gently put his hand over it, keeping it holstered.

“That’s none of your concern,” Markus said. “Make your case.”

“I already did,” Gavin said, rolling his shoulders back, standing a little taller. “Daniel Greer attacked_ a child_, and who knows what would have happened to him if Hank hadn’t been there to scare him off. Wolves like him give us all a bad name.” 

Hank had wanted to give chase, to put a bullet in the wolf’s heart, to decapitate it just to be fucking sure it was dead. 

Cole had needed him. Little hands reaching, tear streaked face, all that blood, and the soft _‘daddy, it hurts.’ _

Carl’s fingers drummed along the armrest of his chair. “You’re still packless, aren’t you, Gavin? A lone wolf-”

“That has nothing to do with any of this,” Gavin said, still polite, but an edge, a warning. 

“You don’t truly understand what it is to be part of a pack, to be bonded to something more-”

“I remember enough,” Gavin said, his voice rough. “We didn’t come here to discuss me. We’re here to bring Daniel in. Are you going to fight us on it, because we will just bring the information to the council-”

“It will take months to get through the bureaucracy,” Carl said. 

“Then cut the shit, and help us.” 

Carl stared at Gavin a long moment. “You’re still welcome here.” 

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Carl frowned, but nodded, he looked to Hank stared like he could pry open every secret he ever had, then back to Gavin. “And you trust the word of a hunter?”

“I trust Hank,” Gavin said. “And it’s not like the DPD, and the Council didn’t look into the incident, prove it with both the fact that Hank has security cameras on the exterior of his house, and the traffic cams that picked up Daniel in the area, and we got a positive ID since he also has prior infractions throughout Michigan. He’s unstable, and needs to be taken in before he causes anyone else harm.” 

“Daniel came to us a few weeks ago,” Carl said, slow and careful. “His brother has been part of our pack for many years.” His attention shifted to the stairwell. 

Hank could see the resemblance in the man who emerged. Similar bone structure, same hair, same build. This one was different though, moved nervously, grizzly scratches from temple to jaw, luckily missing his eye, but the scars ran through the man’s lips. 

“Simon,” Carl greeted softly. “It seems your brother did not come to us to get reacquainted, nor to truly earn your forgiveness.”

Simon didn’t argue, didn’t defend. Hank had a sinking suspicion about the facial scars, and where they’d come from. 

Carl looked to his son. “Markus, what would you do?” 

Markus’s eyes widened. “We protect our pack.” 

“And in this situation, how do we do that?” 

There was a fire in the young man, Hank had seen it earlier, but it was dimmed now, glancing at Simon. 

“It’s okay,” Simon said so quietly that Hank more read his lips than heard him. 

Markus still looked uncomfortable. “What are the other infractions?”

“Does it matter?” Gavin snapped back. “He attacked a defenseless child- the fact that he didn’t die or turn is a minor miracle.” Markus kept eying him down and Gavin clenched his fists. “Robbery, breaking and entering, theft under five thousand, two counts of assault with a deadly weapon because those claws still fucking count. Now are you going to shield him because you’ve got the hots for your packmate-” The words are nearly drowned out by the snarl Markus let loose, but Gavin doesn’t stop- “ or are you going to make the smart choice and hand Daniel over?”

Markus’s eyes darted to Simon, but didn’t linger, instead going to his father for confirmation. The old man gave a somber nod. “I’ll contact North, she was keeping an eye on him.” 

When it came down to it, it was rather anti-climatic. Daniel was escorted in by a few members of the pack, vastly outnumbered, but snarling. He lunged at his brother only for both Gavin and Markus to pin him down long enough for Connor to inject him with a sedative that would keep the werewolf unconscious for a couple of hours. 

Some of the werewolves aired their complaints, but Carl quieted them quickly. “Take him and go,” he advised. 

Gavin hefted the wolf over his shoulder and took the lead. 

It wasn’t fair. Hank had been hoping it would come to a fight. He didn’t even get to deck the guy. 

Markus followed them to the dirt path, and Hank was secure in knowing that Connor was walking a few steps behind him, making sure they weren’t attacked from behind. 

Hank fumbled with his phone until he could get the flashlight on as the rain started to sprinkle down. “Fuck.” 

“Hurry up, I’d rather not get soaked,” Gavin said, sounding a little out of breath. 

Hank recalled the fact that Gavin had been injured as bad, or worse than Connor. “I can carry him, you shouldn’t be-”

“I’m fine, just move it, old man!” 

Despite walking fast, they didn’t beat the downpour. They were soaked by the time they got in the car. 

They sat in silence, the car running, heat on full blast. 

“Hey, Gav.”

“Mhm.”

“Thanks.”

Gavin lifted his head from where it had been resting against the window. “It’s my literal job. Don’t make a deal out of it.” 

The thing was, it wasn’t his job, not really. This case hadn’t been assigned to him. It was technically Connor’s job that Hank just decided to put himself on. Gavin wasn’t obligated by the Council or the DPD to help out. He just did because Hank had asked. He didn’t make a big deal out of it though, because Gavin asked him not to. Just like he never asked questions about Gavin’s familiar pack, or the reason why he’s stayed packless the entire time Hank’s known him. There were rumours, sure, but to Hank’s knowledge, Gavin never talked about it to anyone. 

“Do you want me to drop you off somewhere before we take him in?”

“No. I want to see this fucker locked up,” Gavin said. 

Hank understood. 

“We’ve got about an hour and fifty minutes before the sedative wears off,” Connor said. “Drive.” 

::

Hank thought he would feel better. The Council was notoriously hard on those who harmed humans—nothing to deter other powerful creatures that harming innocents is wrong than execution, or extended imprisonment but that usually came with a lot of drugs being pumped into the system of the prisoner to ensure they couldn’t break out or harm a guard. There was a good chance that Daniel Greer would end up sentenced to death. He was fine with it, his son hadn’t deserved to be attacked, to be left fighting for his life, to have anxiety and nightmares for years afterward. 

But Hank still didn’t feel better. 

He dropped Gavin off at his apartment, and glanced at Connor. “What about you, where are you headed before daybreak?” 

Connor remained quiet, hell he’d been quiet most of the night. Hank missed the banter, the snark and sharpness, wondered if he said something wrong. 

“I am glad that you and Gavin were both there, that we brought Greer in like this.” 

“Uh-” not what he asked, but okay. “Yeah, I guess, went as well as it could have-”

Connor frowned. “I just mean… I-I would have killed him. I was cleared to do so if he fought back. I would have killed him in that alley if he hadn’t had friends. I would have killed him for what he did to your son.” Connor looked over at Hank. “I don’t kill people. I don’t. I don’t even feed on—_other than you_, I mean—I’ve never fed on someone outside of a facility, monitored so the donors could never be hurt. But him, I would have killed, I know it and I’m not sure what to do with that.” 

Heavier conversation than Hank expected to be having on the side of the road by Gavin’s apartment. He took a deep breath. “Greer did bad things. Making sure he can’t harm anyone else is a good thing. And you didn’t kill him. Neither did I, though I want to. The Council will make it’s choice now, it’s out of our hands. We did our jobs. No point in wallowing in it.”

Connor looked down at his hands, but nodded. “I guess.” 

“Now, do you want me to take you back to your brother’s, or…” 

Connor’s lips twitched. “Or?” 

Hank held the steering wheel a little tighter. “You could come back to mine.” 

Those lips split into a wide smile, showing fangs. “Oh, however will I choose.”

Hank rolled his eyes, and headed for home. 


End file.
